i am the difficulty that lies awake; i am the mistake to make after the mistake.
the last time, the time before time, i remembered three things:
one, a whole paycheck in coins. two, tears in a celestial realm. three, suicidal bathtub in rain.
it’s not like, it’s like.
when you guess against hope, the bookie always rapes your chances.
there are some things that in any language don’t translate, stay still on the tongue; cause a crash of palate, of teeth, of mind, of always guessing what the next word out will
be what you want, she said – just don’t be far from me.
i never knew how to hug distance or how to kiss time; they are cold lovers and i am still warm, still breathing.
still not dead