Micro Poetry

Scraping/ nails against brick/ thought against thought/ smelling my dreams/ mold and rot


Tunneling into darkness/ echoes of my sin/ will you be my light in the end?


I/rush into/you//as if/time/were chasing/me


The bags under your eyes weigh heavy from your lies


Humming softly/ swaying slightly/ rooted always


Flailing/ the sun drop falls/ dazzling/ in its death


Each morning I look for you in the sunrise


The hype ends/ There's only me/ empty


Alone. Breathing what should be. Exhaling what's not.


Words fall from these lips. Jump in your ear. Fall out the other.


The moment my soul can fit into a box, be described with words or painted. I am no longer.


This soul~too restless to stay~too chained down to go~this soul~is dying


Yes/ we must climb the stairs/ How else/ do you plan do go higher?


Progress is/ waking up/ every morning/ realizing/ I can't go back