I know, I know. Those lost to forever —
or not, for sure, that sort of, ish, maybe, kind of
forever comforted in the expiry dates,
factory line, regulating exhausting perceived plans numbers two zero two
one up to scratch
a chaos of categories —
so relief! in the determined (for real) or truly deleted; no matter, still, i
clouding limbo or you held somewhere, hiding, cheating, repenting, paying inconsistent
and inaccurate
but unknown to me so that’s that
Spring. Spring. Spring.
decay is bloody wet and new for
Golden tomorrow is the aged, and the decadent, declining full moon
Declining invitations, so as to attend to
outstaying those inevitable goodbyes and welcomed
Home sweet home