Cold

when the truth is not what I want, I often morph it into a storyline I want it to be and put it over my eyes and ears. When it bit me, I said it was my sacrifice I willingly made. When it stole from me, I said I willingly gave to it. When it lied to me, I said I knew the truth already, but willingly feigned to believe the lie.
But in the end, the story never held,
and dark spots started to spread all over.
From the start to the finish nothing had changed.
so I told myself, I won’t do this again.

11.12.2023

Shadow

there is something sticky in my feet
it drags along the sidestreet
it’s not the smudges of dog feces
it’s not the dried skin leather of mice

it’s like a second layer of skin on my face
like a large red paint on my countenance
that I cannot see for myself
like a fermented smell that permeates

but did you know,
like a sticky gum in your hair,
there’s a trick to rid of its gloominess
either cut the hair for a new look
or get the ice and freeze it for awhile

bright sunny day isn’t too far away
just look up,
it’s right there.

11.4.2021