intermission
wait in tree bark stickiness
distract yourself from the icy city air by focusing, intent, on the charcoal scratches aligning the dirt-covered walls
his navy blue graffiti piercing a path through the dust.
too content
the initial hardwood floor feelings of safety within yourself open up unwittingly and give way to a spiritual yard sale
you have moved your head into his home.
you felt like waking up, sick of feeling like the junk drawer and he promised to melt the concrete. he reminded you that you still had lungs and that they still expanded and contracted and that the others might have temporarily stopped you from feeling but they did not stop your breathing
and slowly, strong, viridian green forest blood filled all of your capillaries again, and your nerve endings began to seek their respective places along the inside of your chest, and olive oil warmth filled the empty spaces.
