day 21; chained to sleep
Chained to sleep, a black garden chases me.
Whisper-light music echoes cold in the undergrowth,
and my throat is in
day 20; the unlife of a zombie
Brains. Yes, I seek—
I need brains. To
fill my empty one.
I can’t think (therefore
am I?) but
day 19; insanity
is just a
word
maniacs use for
those that make no
progress. Stuck in
their spiral, their
tick, their depression.
day 18; miss dickinson
If Emily taught me anything,
it is that I have
no boundaries. Here,
I am moon. I am
never-stilling sky.
day 17; insomnia
My soul is dying
a little bit everyday.
The edges of me
have rounded as well-ground river stone,
my intricacies
day 16; haiku
Raining golden leaves,
remembering spring fondly,
carry its hope away.
day 15; "but she was such a happy child"
So, too, does the maple,
so choked with green and ivy trails
in the pregnant summer heat,
that surely winter
day 14; somehow
We—
imprisoned by tomorrow,
sickened by the present,
clawing at yesterday—
live on,
somehow.
day 13; 302
I
wanted
to
destroy
something,
and
the
least
valuable
thing
around
was
me.
day 12; the sea
In a tangle of
seaweed and
fish guts
floats
an imaginary raft
and we two—
fighting
for the best seat.