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