in the quietest of moments
lost in the singularities
the heavy population of my
solitude

is a weight
unto itself

it feels like
another one about
drowning
but the metaphor feels
too apt
to apropos
not clothos
or lachesis
enough for my
thology

feels like
another one about
the scent of wildflowers
longing
lost and lonely

feels like
the end of a six pack
when the thirst
has you gripped tight
but the only thing
in the cabinets
is vanilla extract
or mouthwash

feels like
i am whispering my love
to the moon
and it stares
blankly back
reflecting the sun’s
disdain
on my every
emotional outburst
in silent tones
just my off key
heart beating
me slowly to death

for so much
silence
it is awfully
goddamned loud
in my head

overpopulated
in solitude
unrepentant
dripping with sin
with a
come hither stare
and fuck you grin
an amalgamation
of everything
you wish i could be