there is a three to five centimetre
gash in my forehead
from my failed pre-dawn
walk through the wall
from liminal to liminal
to door frame impermeable
nonporous unporous
like i fear for the words
it's covered by my fringe
my machinations internal
now flung to far corners
like a fan timer clockwork
i tried to fix in summer
rebuffed by the spring
then scrawl and now scribble
another find myself further
fear prolix so nothing
another opt out excuse
it's just me and the season
here looming migration
under think
what you saw
no more irritable
than usual
anger back
to intuition
on the high way up way
that the near dead leaves wave
and reach out to each other
in a greater wind of motion
that fear of the death
of the fluids exhausted
to escape before sunset
when the ground is too far
feel the fear
that they break up
alone
alike tidings
weak thighs
in a midnight hotel
that bathed in fluorescence
again and the pressure
and how did i get here
unmarried
a razor
with one charcoal sharpener
and in my dream i was trying to find a key
and a bicycle pump
to paint a spring landscape in autumn
could ever really give me away