This longing for home
makes me do the silliest of things,
adopting rocks and lighting
candles against the dark,
and unrolling my heart
like fruit by the foot,
and cutting the stubs
where wings used to be
every time they try to grow back.
Wilted by the weight of it all,
another waning moon,
another melted snowflake,
each precious and impermanent.
And I can't let go.
Hoarding the fleeting
as it slips through my fingers
anyway, and the weight
of all that emptiness
leaves me wilted.
As the clouds drift in the way of the sun,
my mind is obnubilated, blurred by tears held back
and endless sighs, and a great field of gray.
Lost in the fog, I can't remember what I've done
and why I carpet bomb my happiness
and where all the people have gone
How many licks
to get to get to the
Your flavor is bitter and dirty,
I can't stomach another taste.
A lollipop in denial
that the stench is coming from you.