{the morals of a monday.}

a day's final swell
just before the ebb of sleep
distinction of days waxing
melting into memories
burning up inside me
boiling down to a thick brackish paste
that resides in my left breast
and renders me useless

this speaks like a dream
wandering back and forth
between sobriety and drunkenness
loneliness and laughter

is there any way to be
so continually happy
an altruistic pattern of thought
which will lead me into life
and out of such a longing

these days like an egg shell
fragile and broken into pieces
filled with sticky hope
and delicious centers

we know nothing of the world
wanting only to be filled
ever since i was so tiny
understanding only what was seeming

when i watched those centaurs looming
over bodies by the pinkest flowers
looking for their loving.
i saw my incompletion.

speak to me now
of double-headed signs
the optimists within
the whimsical values
of a traveller

because i'm listening
intentively
with my dress undone
and my shoes untied
these giant hands.

i want to know the meaning
of fingers
and the presence
of chamber cells swelling
like a symphony

i know you'd keep me if i kept you
and you'd love me if i let you
but this life was meant for leaving
and i deserve no blessings

i have something to tell you.
i'm looking for that place
to lay my pretty burdens down.