Doubts whisper cruelties
as if my time is borrowed
and soon overdue
Late.
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Doubts whisper cruelties
as if my time is borrowed
and soon overdue
Late.
My high school French teacher
told us in class one day that it’s important
to be “comfortable in our skin”.
My skin is simply a boundary.
It draws a perimeter for the others,
dividing the delicate from the wilds.
It contains the sensitive ones, guards my vitality,
and houses a precarious family of slight dysfunction.
I’ve been wrong about a lot, but one big thing is that this can’t be fixed. It can be fixed! It can be fixed! It can be fixed! There’s one way. Just one.
I was not prepared for this
Stage of life I find myself in
Things were improving with years
Until they weren’t
And my shadow form has started punching down
In ways I could never see coming
After shoving me into the ring
Morning brought no change;
with burning scents on the wind
routine drives forward
The haunting persists:
I carry on ignoring
its calls for reset
(Follow up to Senryū 2025.03.27)
Another sleep comes soon
hoping morning brings waking
changed or not at all
(Followed by Senryū 2025.03.28 #1, #2)
Chasing hopeful light
Persevering night and day
I am still running
(Written on reflection of Wanting to be Wrong from last November.)
Time after time I cast those stones back to its pinned head
Bloodied it raw — tore the faceless mass to ribbons
A pebble for every tear trapped behind a dry eye
A rock for every scream buried in a tight chest
…
The other night as I drifted off to sleep
With tiny quiet dread, my heart whispered to me
A wicked truth newly discovered:
Wolves at night
Charging under the black
Glitter-stars above
Dinner-plate moon lighting our way
We froth at our jowls
We’ve never felt hunger like this before
…