homeward/bound to the kennel

as a lover should #12 4/05/26

(i know that/i am afraid that/i hope that) you do not love me, you are only in love with what i could have been.

memory foam #13 4/05/26

there are some days where i think
that i will never get up, and instead succumb
to my slothdom, resting my bones into
the mattress,
sinking slowly,

dying in vain.

i am afraid of drawing
back the curtains so i stay
stagnant && restless --

i do not know if
i want to wake up
i want to wake up
i want to wake up

a dream i had before (religion-babble) #14 4/05/26

and all the prophecies will come to you
in dreams, so that they only influence
the subconscious.

palms cut & sacrificial blood to make
some God happy-- devout in nature
and yearning to become holy.

never gone to church but my bowed
head will say otherwise as i
stare at the grime that ruminates
under my skin.

this dog will never escape
its chaining-- held together by
thorned vines and a blessing.

zen #15 4/05/26

awakening; i will embrace the flow of life just like i had tried to do in childhood.

as a flower #16 4/06/26

i know that i am soon to grow into full bloom;
resplendent– the brisk air will guide me
as i breathe new life into my own petals.
machinating into the new generation,
to be beautiful.

you have seen it all, i am sure. the
freeze\thaw that is ever-similar to a soft rise\fall
of the seasons, the first buds bloomed and last leaves fallen.
wiser than i am, so i am hoping to absorb your
earthly knowledge from the soil.

we will align in syzygy– the neverending give\take
that comes with a lineage. though foggy, i will reach
myself through the ancestry, just to scramble to find
what remains of my self.

in perfect rest; you know how to become–
these petals will unfurl
so that the sun
can guide me
the rest of the way.

springterlude iv #17 4/06/26

i do not know how long a crocus will live,
all i know is that they will be gone
along with the violets,
once april is over.

callow in youth ((virtuous as the sun)) #18 4/07/26

i.
i am staring at what remains of him in the mirror,
tweezers in my right hand-- splicing my face
until i am satisfied and bleary-eyed,
i do not know where i went wrong.

"there is a part of him that remains,"
(i say, feeling out the cavity in my chest.)
"i am sure of it." and still, it is unclear
if i believe myself, because there is a
waver in my voice and every day after is
a little more cloudy.

sunshine. that is what i am named after,
what he was sculpted in the image of,
so that he would not stray off of the path that
would have lead him to salvation.
yet, i know that i am the dying proof
that he was irredeemable.

ii.
his baby-blue, and bloodied, silk pillowcase that
i swore i threw away lays crumpled in the
hamper. no matter, i will wash out
whatever remains of that child so that
i can make room for the decomposition. it is
spreading, through the memories that he
swore he would keep.

all the promises that are long since broken, the swings
that were too high and the wind that brushed through
his hair, all the tears that i swore
that i shed are gone now-- disappearing in decay.

iii.
now shattered;
my knuckles mangled and his knees scuffed--
i run boiled water over my hands to wash
(and clear) myself of this deed--

these scars are bound to heal over.

restless nights #19 4/07/26

do not be afraid any longer, my child.
i will shield you from what i believe
to be the greatest terror in our lives.

to do as a mother should have done before,
you will be cradled and loved.

staying in blissful dreaming--
never to awake.

it is okay, because i will be there too.
holding your hand; you know that
i do not want to wake up
i do not want to wake up
i do not want to wake up
i do not want to wake up
i do not want to wake up

springterlude v #20 4/08/26

temperamental; winter still lingers,
icy claws over newly grown grass
& flowers.

still, the violets and crocuses will
reach themselves as far as they can.

liberation #21 4/09/26

becoming beautiful with
metamorphosis in motion;
i will flit these tattered wings.

shelved (delicately) #22 4/09/26

you are a reckless child &
i am the snowglobe that you
shake with the kind of
violent love that only
a boy can give.

re-birthing #23 4/09/26

these stalks that rise
slowly & the fingers from the
mulch will one day
grab hold to my
ankles and like all things
do pull me closer into
its maw-- to be eaten
and consumed and
spat out back into
the fertile soil.

i will bloom as a
beautiful child
i am sure of it
this time.

fancifully fabricated #24 4/10/26

i keep being so sure that i will be
[beautiful]-- that i ignore the
growth within me and instead
focus on the superficial.

as a modern narcissus, you have
stayed stagnant against this
pool of effervescent youth--
i will fall in one day and
i think then i will finally find
myself

wondrous.

and if i am not then
i swear to god that
i will be the next time.

i just know it.
i just know it.
i just know it.

i will love you like nobody has before #25 4/10/26

like a lover; give me the
violent, gory, hurtful
love that someone like me
deserves-- "passion." (they say,
that it was an act of "passion".)

(& they say that)
all "acts of passion" are done
with paroxysm, the best kind
of love is done with intention,
and the only intention that it
can be done with is with the
affection in cold blood.

yes; this is what our foremothers
endured and how the forefathers
have told us to dote upon others--
with a harsh, gritty, & vicious lust
that gets stuck between your teeth
as you bite against the grain.

so i am called a lamb-- portrayed with
innocence that i have been forced upon,
white robes and all, but no matter,
we will soak them with wine, and they
can simply be shred across the floor.
you needn't worry about staining them--

they will be the color that we love the most,
sacrificial & romantic.

winter's denouement #26 4/11/26

icy winds still linger like bloodstained
vines-- singed ears with needles
enjambed through the flesh, burning
cold piercing through the heart.

& so, i am sure of it:
someday, i will thaw.
--to be burnt is to be beautiful.