{the precipice.}

separate the wheat
from the chaff.
what makes sense
what is good
the days i enjoy
leaking away
into a heated drunkenness.
bad smells.
direct me towards
the light. the everlasting.
having proof and showing worth.
these are the steps
forwards
the steps back.
onwards and upwards we say.

and the day after merriment
i feel nothing
will ever be okay again
knowing all the fallacies

reeling back from my own disappointments.

(+)

save me by the blossoms
by bike rides and clean laundry
the fresh fruits eaten by morning
the sweat of my brow.
and the sweet words of night.

pray for me. as a father.
as the farmer
sifting hands
through the parched soil of my spirit
on the hottest days of the year
pressing taught and tanned
face and fingers
into the corroded earth within me.
your breath is minerals.
breathing out and into dirt
taking in malignancies
sleep there.
rest your head upon my heart.
hum to its beatings.
and beneath everything
the folds of my thoughts
the darkest parts
cause the sweet sting of love
to infiltrate my dreamings.
lacing your hands with my nerves
squeezing through the sinew
scratching at the pit of my stomach
where all the old blood lies

every rib is yours
that you could break
if you wanted.
be my synapses
flushing through the arteries

build a new house
where the old stood

i am reminded
constantly.
and made new by the sun.