Raw Diary

There is a tree in front of me
on the lake edge
a twisted weeping willow

When I'm dead
I'd like to be slotted
within its hollowed-out trunk

Maggots and bugs could eat me
deposit their frass
feed the tree
Pretty neat

~ ~ ~


I can take the hardened way
believe the picture you have
is my illustration

but the blisters on my feet have burst
and I don't spoil for a fight
I just want to rest

You click your fingers
the sound of control
the smell of extinction

You're indecent
a mule of a guest
a fragment bolstered to wholeness

Let's pull the curtains
sit in the dark
think back to before

~ ~ ~