fresh roots
thorns soften
stems break
flowers burn
a garden bed suffocates
your ashes i will no longer take
Category: poetry + prose
nothing means nothing
in a world where everything means something,
is a world where nothing means nothing.
among the lost particles
i still make wishes on everything
I say too little, too much or nothing at all,
simply because I feel and overthink
too deeply, for better or worse.
i wish i could wind us like a clock
numb; living in standby.
When you’re paralyzed but know you still exist through tingling bones, sparks down your spine, the grinding of a fork down your throat and a shaken, not stirred, heart.
