trench + bank

I hope that my fear grows branches the size of coconuts, its water glowing with a beige hum that reminds you of painting your childhood room

That pit in my stomach being so overpowered that it succumbs, violet petals take over instead and sway nicely within the prairie

Maybe I'll see to it that my eternal loneliness grow only nocturnal instead, maybe I can lie with it like an occasional lover, the stream of the moonlight tracing its face

 

Maybe it'll be shattered and cleaned up by a lone sweeper, teared into little, noiseless, incapacitated pieces and scattered into the wind by revelry, the sounds of merriment and cheer boast supreme instead, it triumphs over this black mold

But now, it only seems like I have no choice but to inhale its croaking fumes, my heart resting as a funeral home for itself, I wish it could just stop

I see no red button in sight, only cogs, levees and pulleys that churn and can't stop, it tastes of the same iron that one smells when blood spills

A hammer could not fix this mess, and I've tried the razor's edge, but a little rust on it only sickeningly fuels it

Reviews

[nadia dmitri]

Your diction is amazing, I always love connections to mundane nostalgic parts of life, it makes the poem feel more person for all readers. Beautiful job :))