176 Readings | 0 Ratings

1.2

New year, new terror –

or is it dullness? As years pass,

they’re one and the same. Little hands

reaching up to be held, staving off

the question in the middle of things:

What for? There’s not enough time

to attend to interiors, thank God! –

or whatever abstract plane I shove

the metaphysical into. I want bigger thoughts,

but still, your fingers are dragging me down,

back to basic realms, desires still echoing

through months and new rains. So much changed,

and I want you and don’t, and to be seen by you,

or for my particular dullness to thrill you,

which is another name for beloved.

Posted 01/02/20
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