One hand is half-thigh
the other touches knee
your shoulders are all wrong
of course, this is aura
Do not see aura
the ugly
with the good, a small pea
in a mass of cess
Look instead at the smiles
the eyes
It is too much
they may laugh and joke
but they are broken
little, brittle chips of dirt
You do not want to see
the light

~ ~ ~

Quiet Here

Played-out mania
Bootprints in the snow
Done all my missing

~did the rerun
rain-drenched streets
alley rats, old stuff,
things tried before which
always end up a mess~

You keep time
head-full figments, love songs,
I don't even know if you believe
I hate myself

~ ~ ~