fever

composting wants

they rot beneath the wrong touch

of a hand to a guitar

of an ear to my heart

I remember this being better.

It was always better with you.


we laugh and pray tomorrow will be

lazy today.

So the hungover sun won't see

happiness only remains

until the bottles are drained.

It's blurry as walking in a crowd

as walking in a cloud.


I want your flowers

falling from your hair

in single scented moments

desiring nothing but your stare.

Every day is a dream.

I remember being better.

I was always better with you.

The End

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