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I know I'm turning ugly
A turpentine tree trunk
Twisted as the shadows
Lengthen and silhouettes
Soften, someone show me
How to make anything but
A fist— I bruise, I burn, I
Hold on to everything
That wants to let me go
I am growing stunted with
The skillet slant of the sun
Playing hide-and-seek
I have lost or I am losing
And the ink in my veins
Falls in splotches insensible
In this eternal, internal rain
I have a mouth made for
Despair, I have learned to
Chew the air before my
Weary lungs can swallow