He makes jewllery shoeless,
Even freedom of toes strangles Him-poem
—the depths must have surfaces, imperative mind detergents
Washing burdens of their colour, dreaming breaks in solvent waters
Where he builds tips & tricks—self myths to satisfy semblance of becoming a belonger
From down he looks up seeing more below the further his glance extends, sacrifice beneath ocular lens
Sounds like suffering a hollows echo turning, spinning, tin-time can
I reach to muffle cries, fingers pillowed and soft, into the extensional cavernous walls we talk, tickling the sides with my nails—retract claws, retract
I see it too, I feel it
Our illness or our wealth, Losing gods like keys
it is monotonous
I glitter in black spools unravelling, just different as you do. I recognize you; unfolding and closing, the warmth inside us glows
Killing seasons by perspective
I made jewellery shoeless once, to limber my toes for a run
We neither of us, suffer suffocation for anyone