when i woke this morning, it was easy to misinterpret the heron’s call through the static

I stood in the door shadow of the narrow cellar steps immersed in the hallucinogenics of summer and the hard slap of fall

the world felt musty, the sky seemed dusty, everything felt slightly askew, as I took wobbling steps

My mid morning caffeinated solar system of emotions echo back eerily that my life will never feel real

it feels as if a comet tail whipped along my silent, a semi sideswiped my sullen sweet side

There are so many shy love letters I want to put together to make bold words, all laced with that healing stitch

a solar flare infused my bones in a hoarfrost haze of subjugated desire, an echo in my schism

My blackened veins of yesterday’s pain don’t illuminate my dawn so I’ve decided I want to live forever on the tip of his tongue

i set a strand of her hair in a cup of water, letting it spin on the breeze, the sunshine guiding me home

I’m always open to misinterpretation, yet I can say for certain I’ve become fluent in two languages, silence and him.

EC is the poetry in my veins. it is that simple.