ball of knots
thrown queasy
off side of sinking ship

night moon low
fading fast light
coma approaching

grasping on
to burnt leaves
echoed, distant sounds

letting slip
ice and fire—
ending, eventually, the waterfall.

(don’t read if you have a brain. This is just what inspired this poem, which is simply a stomach ache, the far off sound of a plane over head, and the sadness that is my life, I suppose everyone’s life, and how these days and nights are sneaking by me…and I can’t seem to stop anything, ever, at all.
good night, lukewater)


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