Friday, July 26, 2019

little boy


where pain shifts like the ping
of engine

the sound of
                  a thousand cats puking


perched on a tree branch
outside your mind

      a mountain top
is flat

if you sleep upon it

think about it

the sky is a blanket of dewdrops
that are vast stars
                               of the void

and you are cold in your sleep
so I cover you with my dreams


what will you look like in
20 years        I can't even imagine
what you will look like   tomorrow

when I am an afterthought of time

when I peer down from the
blank clouds
that are the deep black


ivy white and homeless

trying to catch a glimpse
of your mind

no matter how often
we disappear


my little boy

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