the leylines
thrum with untapped
power
i sit
crisscross
applesauce
contemplating
my navel
little
scars
in the shape
of devilishly
angelic smiles
scrape along
hazel static
scrubbing any
trace of
intrusive
delusion
from taking root
in the salted
plantation in
the shape of
a heart

flowers ring
the base of the hill
i circle
oncetwicethrice
and fall into
the door opened
in the back of
my hollow skull
an implosion
inversely tearing
the pixels apart
disassembling
the lost missives
transmitted in
the vast dereliction
of truth
falling through
myself in an ever
quickeningexpulsion
of ego into an
amalgamation of
every errant thought

cycling between
stages of grief for
dreamsleftundreamt
the passions passed over
for safer prisons
perpetually chasing
greener pastures
killing off
whatever doesn’t
conform to someone
else’s idealized
version of who
we can never be