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One plus Two.
One in the corner, in the dark
On her own.
One by the bench, looking down.
Two in the field, on the run
With the wind.
Two at the hole, flying hot.
One by Ten, in the sun.
Ten at the bench, but One leaning over.
Heart sold. Secret safe.
Ten to Twelve,
Twelve on the wall.
Door closed.
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| Wiffle ball
as the Chill falls
There's a rumble
community/comrades
and yet Awkward
we stroll regardless
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| It feels like sleep:
In dreams, we are quiet.
Pursued, we grow anxious
For escape and hunger
For release.
We cannot get away.
Slower we run, we walk
And cannot move, thus
We drown.
We die fighting
Against the demon who chased us here:
Our insecurity.
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| alone.
the sounds are louder: the rain beats down like a drummer on his snare
but my heart cries out above it
bring me to life
but there is no salvation here.
sleep is difficult to enter, more difficult to leave.
in time, this will pass--but how long?
how long?
i am not prepared.
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| this is a hard spot.
we sit here, we are taught it is comforting.
we grow into it and call it home.
we see freedom flow past us
in thought, in the distance
and we give up on normalcy.
Please don't let me go.
I was happier when I didn't know.
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