The brain is good at hiding things.
a two-sided notebook paper
rant dedicated just to me.
there is no rhythm to the remembering, / no time or space or elaborate calling
words are fraying tethers.
The interior of our childrens schools feel other-wordly now, dare we place a toe over the treshold.
I thought of the end and / I met it for what it was.
inches from the nowhere drain
it took a year for it / to die, shelled and / alone in a far corner of / the unkempt living room.
descend and dissolve
because I don’t / know how to know / it any other way