and never getting up.

now is the instant
i can feel it even though i don’t know why;
and i’m
one minute off the hour.

i run on
intuition alone, this time,
and it works, thank god,
because i’ve
lost my feet in the fall.

somehow i end up on the sidewalk
in pieces
held together by cheap twine & the fact that my mind is



to the sky with my arms
losing touch with my fingers & letting
my hands crawl away.

to get lost in the clouds
would be to say i was found in the first place;
i thought i was, once,
but i was mistaken.

taken backwards through time i’d blame clock hands if i hadn’t
noticed the new lines by my eyes &
those on your forehead.

there’s a lot here, to tell,
but why waste these moments on words when
the sky can say it all;

i watch the dusk turn grey & get washed away

& for the first time in a long while
i can breathe.

like banner words & things.

words on strings,
flapping in the wind
like loose confetti.

too terrified to find us here, now,
we focus on the forevers
& the ‘when‘s —
the befores the yesterdays the never agains.

so caught up in remembering
we don’t remember to forget
the time sand-slips ever-on

whether or not we’re watching.

the cusp of not caring.

normally i’d be
too terrified to leave the house like this
but now i’m too mad to give a shit.

stomping out anger on flat feet & unforgiving concrete
skipping streets & just daring
cars to hit me.

do to me what i wish i had the willpower for
instead of just
meaningful self-destruction,
little scars & wrinkles in time that stain
& last forever.

tear me from
the life i’ve found running stale
like worn goods left over
with neon-orange stickers; buy now, on sale.

in this place i’ve found somehow
unique abilities like
being able to regret things that haven’t even happened yet
unfortunately i’ve found this is not
an employable skill.

tired of being
tired of being looked at, lifted up,
floated just enough to survive
on caffeine old hope & smoke while i

turn my thoughts into scripture.

i think i’m
just tired of being.

today i must be feeling
optimistic for i find myself sitting on the couch
usually at times like these i’d be in the corner clinging to the floor to keep it from moving,

willing the world to stay still;
for once,
it does as i wish
& for one
i forget that i exist.

i’m a vessel stuck between two places i’ve never been.

relinquish is
such a pretty term for giving up;
prettier than getting stuck
& slipping
between notches of seconds on the clock.


it feels i am forever
writing the same poems over
with just slightly different words.

trying to catch time with no hands & no empty jars.

the only thing i find harder to catch
than my mind
is my tomorrow;
the day that fades elusive at night —
while i rest it doesn’t.

& when i awake all with anticipation i always find
somehow it has already escaped

& has pushed forward without me.

turning 27 into 72.

while i was wondering,
waiting it out..
not noticing,
& ever-neverminding..

i became convinced that the clock ran out of time
instead of just batteries.

the boxes on the calender in which i couldn’t fit
made trade for some petals i blew away;
small moments in time that could have belonged to

i fill my time full with regrets;
full of un-crossed-off lists that stack & turn yellow,
full of thoughts of things i didn’t do but should’ve,
things i’ve unwittingly given up, the

things i can never get back.

some have been gone for so long
i’ve forgotten they once had names.

but instead of reflecting &
gathering what is left of my gold i am
watching my reflection fading,
remorsing &

letting the thieves sneak back in through the window to
swallow up the rest.