you open all the blinds for moonlight
to make a place at your dining table
the radical yellowed pages say “liberty is an illusion”
& you must agree,
crouched on your cold chair in a t-shirt
& underwear. eating tomato soup.

It’s much easier to listen than to be heard,
so I assemble a wide-eyed, open expression,
and shelve all the blaring thoughts
to the dead wood walls of my mind.
I am an expert at starting sentences,
horrendous at finishing them. How can I

It always starts as a clear spring day.
Serene curtains, murmuring crowds, warbling musicians.
“House closes in five.”
Here, time gets to stand still.

wet grass
we are living on borrowed time
the green of spring will soon fade to browns
struggling to breathe and blaming it on allergies
blood is pulsing through my veins and my fingertips
this isn’t my bathroom floor this is real life
there is no second chance