nostalgia-ruins - that sprawl of afterwards

random awakening

startled me once, a

nearby motorway

hums with what

can only be bees

thought myself once

upon the koi coloured

cotton sheets this

graveyard of swallowed

footsteps, where is my -

lifetime? deep in the armour

of rotting words? in the cradle

of rocking rust? sadness for

pillows, there’s a canyon there

of trodden petals

ruins say the shadows that try

to stride there but remain in one

place only, where clocks are stuck

at lonely, there’s falling, everyone

is falling, apostrophes from eyes

an atmosphere of don’t live your

life there, buildings are shoulders

for changeable skies, my head doesn’t

fit the lightning that casts its theatre

there, my zeus bolt can exert a planet -

then become absolutely nowhere, where

the signposts are inverted and the maps

drunk, back to the dot that made me from

love and honeysuckle-hip-action, now i’m

a person with thirsts, several winters of them

they drift, and i drift to, the wind’s alphabet

is trying to explain scratching itself dead

upon the pane, shows me a leaf so old

held there brief as a hiccup, like most are

i conclude, like we are

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