can you imagine
being filled to rupture
yet none of what
aches inside
is anything
anyone could
possibly ever want?

i cut myself
to release pressure
bleeding technicolor
onto a world filled
with foggy relapse
leaving blinding images
scarred into the
asphalt dreamchannels
between vacant hearts.

the sparrows sing
of the trail of blossoms
heartthistle refrains
staining the city
of a million overstuffed
dreamcatchers in
a haphazard dismay.