These Days

I am watching the car lights disappear.
These days I know nothing. I write trivial stuff.
These days I sit down my fears on the porch of my mind. We
sit and watch the weather change, some days we go
and get a blanket or two. Then we sit again.

These days there is a hunger around my heart. I write.
The hunger devours me. I mourn the death that is needed for new life.
I mourn that I looked at the railways with dark desire today.
This yearning is not meant to be soothed. I sit in my heart and understand.
I would rather close my eyes. I don’t.
I sit in my heart and understand.

Sanity turned out to be the old woman
with stinking breath and eyes of wonder.

I love myself much these days.


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