The spareness of what
I write contrasts with my
cluttered existence.
Essential
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The spareness of what
I write contrasts with my
cluttered existence.
Nit-picking each and
every syllable my mind
focused on detail.
Foggy days. The shroud
of mystery that veils our
ordinary lives.
Home from the party
they’re luminous like fireflies
settling down to sleep.
Their lives loves failures
all source material for
future film projects.
Couplings and breakups
compelled by senior year some
begin others end.
With no school Monday
so much high drama surrounds
turning seventeen.
They never read much.
When offered ten bucks for all
their books, they sold out.
Switching to vampire
office hours. In bed past noon.
I write without light.
Dissolution is
the caterpillar’s abased
path to butterfly.