In the Middle

Pain is in the fallen twigs

Windowsill nostalgia

Like Winter Blues

You’re winter

Your hair is dry and broken

The nest is surrender

To nothing now

In December.

Drinks are old news

And the bones are the music of every day

Bags full of bones

With nothing there,

I can hear you

When you’re not there.

Steak and eggs

I felt safe

There under the knife

Was I safe there?

Seasoned solid

I taste nothing now.

We’re blurry

Laundromat laughs

We’re blurry

Throwing out the garbage together in the cold

Shapes of smiles I can’t hear anymore

In the dead of night

Deaf

Buzz

Kill

Flies and hair on shower walls

I puke in my head

Don’t you like my googly eyes?

I didn’t care about what you said, but I care about you

Seeping...

Matters of the heart.

Signing off sometimes

Doze off

You might miss

The end

This time

Worry?

Don’t!

They come and go:

Endings,

even when you’re close

I give up

In and out

Again

Again, again

Reminded of water...

Twigs get wet

Sweet and drunk

Let’s not go home

alone again tonight.