The clouds roll and spill their essence
White-hot and frozen on these unkempt strands
Wet and strange and ignored
Half-blind in this storm I can’t see
Half-deaf in this hurricane I can’t name
There’s no circling ’round it
There’s only through
Straight through
Straight through, all the way through
The knife wants to wound a path for me
It would scratch a shortcut into the cold earth
But I turn it away, hiding it
Trying not to listen to its howls
The screaming from the bottom of the drawer
Begging to serve
The trees aren’t beautiful anymore
Clouds are no longer real
I float along the world’s surface
My hands move to the drawer
And the stars above no longer mean a thing
December 10-11, 2025
Comments
All submitted comments are held for moderation before being posted, and are always posted anonymously.
Comments that contain any potential personally identifiable information will be edited before being posted.
Comments may be edited or deleted before being published at the discretion of the site owner.