Leaves amidst the breeze

The rug that got pulled out from under us

We pulled out from under ourselves


How outdated does this dictionary have to be

For modern words

Cannot possibly compare

To crumbled, bygone leaves

Falling on your head,

like autumn materializing to unbidden fantasies


Streetlights

Hunching, growing weak

Bending further as you walk away

Dimming their own beam

A soft, overgrown illusion of steam

Minding its own peace, seeking its own purpose

Something bricks and bones claimed they could redeem


Popping balloons

with just a pin

was enough

Why so much trouble, why the heavy cartridge?

Did you want the room, to engross the splashing rubber

On all fours?

I think you did

You wanted it to stick

You wanted it to dissolve into the walls, into the paint

Into the cracks,

Onto another room


And suddenly

It’s not the world on your shoulders

But the weight upon your feet

Have you ever dug in, eroding, to a floor you barely know?

If it’s this brutal on the surface, imagine how it’d be beneath’

This is where

judging a book by it’s cover, will do you good

It’ll do us all some good.

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Published by

S.K.

This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand.

4 thoughts on “Leaves amidst the breeze”

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