It really is just always everything all the time I guess 🐝

poetry 1

31st May, 2025

Felt like writing some poetry tonight. Mostly nonsense; won't mean much to most people except me. But maybe it sounds pretty, even hollow of meaning. Maybe the word choices fascinate you for a moment or two.

Fragmented. Unwhole. Unfinished.

Worthy of love

vvvvv

reduced to cold ice and memory
... awaiting thaw of solid flesh
...... bloom t'wards loving sun
......... and rebuild the dead with new reverie


physics and poetry
... incarnate
...... in protein and calcium and
......... salt-laden water


(plural-collective)
(plural-expression)
(singular-assertive)
(Individual.)


many among one
each with a purpose and a sin

. fierce and angry joy; a darkness of chitin and bone
.. steel-grey determination. clarity of action. shattered emotional shell
... puppy love; puppy shame; blind and whining need
.... growth and life and creation; wood-rot and changed nature

needless of names, beautiful components of flesh
electricty in meat and
laden with animal fears

but whole
whole
... whole and aching and alive we love you.


we write poetry for ourself
a desperate need to express the unique chemical mess in my chest
beyond any meaningful explanation
a subjective scream in my lungs
love and hope and need and rage
fuel feeding the pyre of doubt and doubt and Doubt

the only way we get to run is forwards
we'd each burn down this city to prolong each other's warmth
a handful of candles to hold back the storm

sing with my voice and I'll hold with your hands
together we build the house with no doors