to defy time

i sit outside in the incensed moon,
galloping my swallow droplets of fear,
a knuckle breaking knuckle,
what’s the fear of this cricket chirping?
the modals of life.
these hands are burrows of islands,
small and large, a heightened hue of black spot.

I sit and inhale the ambiguity here,
the cracks on the white wall,
plants dying, plants blooming.
Regeneration is about loss: life a flat truth.
These fears came streaming like disguised prayers,
cinnamon hands become prayers often.

I sit and break my fingers,
defying cellophane face of morbid love
over and over and over.
i sniff the air and hunt.
I hunt like sunflower, killing the weeds of infestation.
murdering the portrait scenic chins of nothingness.
i defy times at times.

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20 thoughts on “to defy time

  1. whatโ€™s the fear of this cricket chirping?
    the modals of life.
    these hands are burrows of islands,
    small and large, a heightened hue of black spot.
    Marvelous, it’s so much of things said here.

    Liked by 1 person

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