You keep calling this time I use a waste
of reality, distorting my images and learning...

As You breathed onto valleys and
endless bearing gardens...

You feel like you are clenching
ten iron nails around your fist...

I didn't bother to cover my scars
or conceal my glossy eyes of...

The fringes of my skin
are undeviating...

It's such a quiet day
when I am not flustered...

~
I yearn to hate the night, to grimace...

Collaring my wrist, taking veins
that murmur like violins...

I feel like I can see people, not turning away
when I see the quietness about them or the...

It is a new day
when there are no...

Glissading down toward
pottery...

When is the last time that artistry has
exposed me for who I took the chance...