ode to an unfinished man

Paper hisses green smoke, between knocked knuckles painted crimson as he presses puckered kisses into a man’s cheek. Level– he’s on a pursuit for anything to push down the tethers on his heels. Tried to find a way up strip the weights, shave the pain down into something he can carry. Mama said don’t pickup…

passing cars

I force myself to focus sounds of cars passing. stop at a light turning left, and cars passing by lights bleed. it’s oddly soothing, cars pass in perfect cadence, monotony comforts cold. But– it’s not the sounds themselves that soothe. It’s that space between each whoosh–¬†sudden moment of silence dappling the chaos. You know it’ll…