this graveyard is a garden, questions arising from the fervor that came here to die, a twisting quandary that i won’t know what to think of until you come home

this is searching through the spectrum of everything that must change, navigating infinity, a labyrinth of possibility but your fingernails dig into the ridges of my thumb and crumbs of uncertainty solidify to guide me right

take my hands in your huge calloused pads and let the creeping vines of paranoia curl themselves delicately ringing up your calf muscles… this path will end before they can climb up your neck

we are horizontal like two roads at a crossroads and suicide victims buried between us, thinly boiling static reverberating from each door scratched into the wall, endless doors that lead to nothing crumbling beneath your fingers casting you into the void of too many choices

interlude

a smile alights at the sound of shivering footfalls, humming against the carpet, swelling with epiphanies