قبعة
its vibrating through my veins, the membrane: insane.
the strangled rainbow warrior cannot vibrate through crisp air, the kind in lungs unwashed, yet still untouched.
saying yes is like pretending nothing has ever been in you sweeper boy, yet the itching pulsation proves your sin.
run after your kite - my mind will follow till it falls, so keep it up.
the man's unconditional love licks him in the face, and resumes its position on the seat adjacent.
her child plays in the basket while she prepares detergent, willing the stains not to reappear, and the electricity falls over heads like rain, but blessed, while they clutch for meaning.
wear a hat in effort to keep my mind inside my head, just a little longer, still it wanders and will not read the map. directions might as well be arabic, yet everyone expects expressions of comprehension. and that’s all the dialogue will amount to.
at least it keeps my eyes down low.
we, as in i, have become used to throwing it out there, our thoughts like garbage.
