Deep, night blue is longing,
expressions bearing no paint...

One month
It's October already...

Who are you?
I am not MYSELF...

Between my first and three hundredth hello,
I could still never quite land my feet in a place...

There are no lyrics to the most spiritually
significant words...

Grandpa, my eyes will never deny how speechless I
was when seeing how pain wrapped itself around...

Usually I can name my thoughts, fashion a
stage for my feelings, and direct my footsteps...

I thought this time would be permanent,
not just a dying cell, a subtle wind, or cracks in...

She is el sol wrapped up in a compact
home where the desert is her backbone...

I engrave
who I wish...

I.
It's unspoken boundaries...

Dr. Pepper is my weakness,
especially when it's in large styrofoam cups...