i'm doing laundry in my head

look at you not looking at me i open the windows and close the night air,

its steaming cricket song and after-rain drivel away,

i go into the bathroom and wash my face and go out of the bathroom and

i go into the bathroom and wash my face and go out of the bathroom and

i go into the bathroom and wash my face and go out of the bathroom and

i go into the bathroom and wash my face and go out of the bathroom and

you go into the bathroom and wash your face and go out of the bathroom

and i go into my room and see you there but you are not there.

you wash your face, you wash your face, you wash your face, you

put on your boots and walk out and you are still walking out in this

static episode of real life a broken t.v. set when you're sick and sleepless and living in

an album that circles round and sounds like someone else's life in black and white

and you

are still folded into my cloud and that is a terrible dream that paralyzes

my larynx and unhinges my

intellect and drives a caged bird out

into a sad strange night when the stars so burning bright

do not reach the other stars with constant light,

knowing only the black brimming holes of empty space that is a cruel

and beautiful trance of listening to also

your caged bird and you

breathing and the slanted annotations that life has created on your

illiterate frame, the way your bones sometimes

feel warm

because this is autumn, the only time when i hold the moon in my hand

but no, instead i am easily powerless and dangerous

-ly proud of it and you are a fallen

angel or "whatever you want me to be" or just a kid in the dark sung out of his nighttime heart,

lost at sea. i only know how to do one thing so here

are your pointless stupid wasted flowers.

#poetry