take my hand, stretched to the opening of this here earth.
Mouth of spiders
Spinning web, traps, camo, ammo,
Speech patterns falter like granules of sand.
Like geyser, they rise, my mouth crawled by arachnids
Eight-legged freaks resembling AVs that haunted
my childhood. I love it here. I hate it here. I want to come home.
They feel like eons ago, I was strong, I could carry
an entire compound on my shoulders
like transporting cotton
in between fjords.
take my hand, emblazoned with runics, mental, unsophisticated
Errands and I am done with that I am done with.
Listen. You have been
the greatest downpour of rain.
I could have not deserved
thine pithy mourning
if I choose to lie with mice instead.
I swam with my feet
tango, and danced we did till weekends,
and washed into the away, and wept with from solidified sorrow.
The morning flies fast,
To hotheads we cherish
To troubled mightless
scholars, obtuse, refute.
Mouth of spiders
Seeing red, maps, never better,
Bleached lanterns matter. Radiating the grand.
Everything I sing now
leave holes in chests Almighty. You are Mighty.
Forgive my gun of a mouth.
Your deserverance abetter
than roses in pockets.
I am lacking. I am a compass pointing South,
sideways, I tell you North.
This is the target, but my teeth betrayed by alcohol,
My eyes dry like sneakers in the mud.
Pin a stoplight on gapers. I come to be rescued.
Hear me. Feel me. Hold me. Come, and rest ‘ssured.
I am a stowaway. Shadows rose like islands, rain forests, vegetation.
But I need the bustle of the city. I crave that, I admit. None of this is enough.
Hands are delicate, interweaving
with those which are larger than myself. I dovetail. I’ll
battle, as I cartograph the tunnels I escape to, and none are open to come with.