Describing it.

attempt at reconciling my ambiguous nature. plus is its gorgeous out.

Alone in the willows breeze, I am counting backwards.

I attempt to make my blood shift currents.

I skim through the photo album as best I can remember.

Where beings were what I don't remember them as

until I see them again.

Faces and bodies pile and I remember my own fall.

I was born in October and that always felt so significant.

As lazy as I can be, at least I can appreciate how colors change,

and that death is beautiful without fear.

I'm more afraid to cry than to die.

I'm more afraid of being seen than anything.

So I type and fill shadows of myself onto white paper.

Occasionally ink bleeds into other letters

and I see the similarities of my uncles.

and the differences between me and my dad.

If I'm waiting with out reference,

it is not without reverence.

It is a quiet space of shade 

where I can't tell the difference as much

and IT isn't so ambiguous after all.