I’m losing time: like a purse does pocket change.

I’m blurring lines: like an eraser does on a sketching page.

Though not entirely- yet. Perhaps under erasure?

I’m lost-in-awareness: so-called absence.

Trapped in emergence: like a virus unexpressed.

I’m lost- in-transit: synapses in mid- transition.

I’m stuck between frames: in the gaps between measures.

I’m missing the action: like indigo on the crayon box.

Non- transmission: eyes open wide in non-response.

I can’t bear the weight of existing: so my Self from thee escapes.

I’m lost-in-awareness: on the path between conscious & brain-dead.

Loss of life: like seconds to minutes to hours in pitch black.

No truth nor comprehension: no redeeming or restoration.

Anxiety & apprehension: like sharp razors force a smiling expression.

Out of me I am lost: like a self mourning its soul-in-loss.

Incomplete scenes: Can’t or won’t you see?

I am vacant, no longer here: Or perhaps, it’s just not me.

Erasure and no encore. Start from scratch.



HuRT withIN…

…in the aching space between old and new skin, in the gap of your absence.I will heal though I mustn’t conceal (in this secrecy) that your iridescent entry-exit mattered/that in this code of words said and unsaid I found a thread of light again: Yet it ain’t surprising- I cracked under the pressure of an indolence, my disturbed nonchalance leading me astray.

though my petals look all pretty they cut like razorblades/’for my  rose was withering but it hardened instead. 

(& I’d never want anyone to hurt themselves while mending me.)

Metal Rose of Anger, Love & Despair


May I be done with? May I be put away? May I be let gone? May I not be this again? May I be destroyed? May I please rebuild myself? May I be a little less destructible then? Please help me ’cause no one else is.