September to September
September 21, 2016
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10,000 leagues under the storm and
I’m still breathing.
Yellow spots in my eyes and leaves in my hair; it’s autumn now.
this season skips your hands / warms your heart. holds out store signs spelling : dreams on sale, today only. neptune’s throwing thunderbolts, and this self-portrait with hands is shivering, now.
The haunts and ghouls were once playful
now they’re true.
But your child eyes find the falling leaves peaceful
you lie back
let them turn into your hair.
these howling ghosts fake their own tenderness beneath us, can’t you hear them? back-porch dreams, young and naive, born alongside lunar eclipses, more fog than human,
you never told anyone this part of the story.
You want to scream back, whisper “Make me feel.”
It can’t. They can’t.
The vibrant color in the air: colors of death and warmth
the phoenix, jealous of how quickly my ashes change
the harvest moon below your feet and the ground is your sky.
polarity leaves you sea sick, the heavy smell of salt crashes around your lungs, pay attention, pay attention, every place you go to feels like you’ve been there before, but nothing feels quite the same way it does the first time, and why not?
it’s non-affictionated, crisis of the buzzing beneath your skin / run / running /
moonstone turns slick, soft, turns ice and runs out into streams,
current strong enough to bury you.
So instead you sleep.
You dream of big sweaters warming in the sun.
The sip of tea
your soul is perhaps drowned but warm
enjoy the season for what it is: the earth ending, beautifully.
the uneasiness melts away, like something about to happen
already happened before
i buy a dream for a quarter and it’s all laughter,
all crunching colors and warm spices. this, everything,
it makes my heart glow a little softer, here.