within the river of time is my mind

I am not personable.

A dreamer. Terribly finicky, my mind vast, spacious,

drenched in violets.


The rivers run black with the soot of my mind.

The graves dance, myself always within and without reach.


I am dying and they know it.

I am a trial, a test. Droves of doves.


I carry you, with me always.

Your hum, your mark. My love.



Even though I have been violated.

Rendered, an artery with outlet, time,

time again.


The closer, my narrowness, my coming to death

the more myself, I know.


Terrible, my loyalty.

So blinded, I would be, time

time again.


I only begin to know undone.