Where They've Gone.

A forest of potential toothpicks
looks out over a sea
holding old chaos in its hands 
tightly.

things broken and unknown
crawl into small spaces 
and hovels
to sing.
wavering voices from under branches
tinny notes inbetween roots and leaves.

we are dominoes
careening and caressing each other to the floor in a fluid, perpetual charade.
crashing in on one another 
waves on glass
until we all become grains of sand.
minute, indistinguishable.
bound together by elements we are unable to understand.


somber fingers touch skin
touch veins
touch bone, gripping skeletons smiling, eyeless.

slowly
a flower opens
on hallowed fields of cement.

Streetlights

you cupped my misery in your hand and threw it into my face, splashing me like cold water. 
Buck up you said, the world's a bucket full of shit
breathing in its tangy stench I rejoiced that I had something worth breathing, 
clarity.
I blinked.
you took my hand, interlaced fingers. One misery-drenched, both tearstained.
suddenly we became We. my. us. ours.
I faltered. slipped away. unbent my knees.
No thank you I said,soft crescendo.

you smiled, your teeth filing into points while I watched.

and yet-

we rock

simultaneously, but not cohesively

gone, but not forgetting

the shape of another.

like prodigal puzzle pieces given up

so worn at the edges

than any other will do

will fit, imperfectly

crashing closer

we slide towards what we accept and reach out with our fingers and toes.

on the balls of our feet

almost touching noses

our knees buckle,

and yet-

...