Day 1622, at last.

The patterns I see

are forming letters

~

the words are there

but I need more distance

~

for the sentence

I need

to turn away

~

and to understand

I have to wait

till I close my eyes

Day 1619, a hand.

A handprint

in a gravel beach

~

the upcoming tide

hasn’t yet

taken it

away

~

did someone

pushed

themselves up

~

or did they stop

a fall

~

maybe

they just wanted to feel

the cold gravel

Day 1618, seven.

A black dot

erased

~

standing at the end

of a long sentence

~

not

so he could write on

~

but

to deny him

a new line

Day 1611, looking.

When I sit

and look

like an eagle

~

watching what you do

hiding like a shadow

behind you

~

I search for

my

insecurity

in you

Day 1610, overrated.

I like your embrace

it feels like cold

steel wires

hugging me

~

warmth

is overrated

when you live

in a cold world

~

lets be honest

Day 1608, fell.

Day 1608.jpg

A dividing wall

lay flat

on a corrugated

blood soaked

metal floor

~

there are no people here

they are long gone

mending their wounds

~

the wall fell

but who

will raise it again

Day 1607, water hose.

Day 1607.jpg

We’ll keep them

hanging around

even though

they are cut up

in so many pieces

that they are

useless

~

you can no longer

water your soil

with them

~

my dear old

arguments

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