eyes roll west, 

we see synapses dimly firing at easy targets and cheap jokes, teeth chattering, white and sharp, hungry for derision

for anything else but the terrifying bog

of what it is to be a human being in control of your own life.

instead, let's laugh at the tumbling waves of pending disaster

narrowly skirting by our lives each and every single day, pretending that ...

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Aptly called a rescue dog,
filed under white noise
there was only a thousand different ways
that I could've fallen under your spell.
 

this seat, on a sunken iron lung
in the abyssal, clawing cold
a bog of wet denim on laundry day.
It's here, gateless and voiceless
I'll sit and wait for you to find me
knowingly pressing my cheek into my knees
fitting smaller and smaller into the space...

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