justwrite 3 april

it’s a birthday season a day with reasons and also adjectives we can’t forgive where we’re going but in the past it’s always snowing we’re showing the way home we’re blowing our own chrome out of its sockets I kissed all the lockets and broke out the pictures we’ve bewitched further than allowable there’s no war in this game there’s no peace in this shame I’ve got to get to sleep to pieces the catch and release is the best part of any game there’s no shame there’s fear there’s a catch-all disappearance and a mysterious reaction a collection of figures the bigger the fall the farther the call out for help I am facing down I am worrying a crown off my head it’s instead of light it’s not too bright it’s tired and uninspired it’s hoping for the best it’s writing into corners and forgetting what’s worth saying paving over the rest with other tests unpassed we’re lasting through the season there’s no reason to keep playing but we’re making our own beds and we’re ready to lie in them honestly

justwrite 31 march

I didn’t type it up yet but it’s there in my notebook from the train ride and it’ll be here soon