I enter the room. But this does not take place. I leave the room. As I have done before.

The door is ajar. The branches in the sun are not available for refund. This is taking place.

A night to walk the breath I am not coming back.

Wind are the cheap poems through barbwire parasols. Footfalls of electromagnetic touchdowns.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s