Switching to vampire
office hours. In bed past noon.
I write without light.
Can’t sleep 2
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Switching to vampire
office hours. In bed past noon.
I write without light.
Well-loved now. Rescued
he was matted with feces,
eyes begging for home.
Dissolution is
the caterpillar’s abased
path to butterfly.
She hates her friends at
the moment. They cling, their needs
crowding out her self.
Anyone can see
she’s depressed. Crashed on the couch
sleeping beauty dreams.
Summer warmth still clings
Like gum on a shoe, with all
the stickiness gone.
My need to be first
makes me sweep away footsteps
that precede my own.
When nearing the end
why is it that time speeds up
precipitously?
Is it the green tea
or the excitement of new
possibilities?
The third degree burns,
generated by love that
intense, never heal.