I stood tall at thirteen,
they asked me to kiss you
goodbye, it was what
Fear created my resolve.
I ignored the pleas from others.
There’s a place I still go sometimes,
a shadow within my mind
a corner where
you’re still making homemade rolls,
I’m stealing raw dough,
and neither of us are sick.
Electrical currents ride ridges like waves. No, more like hills. There is no crash, yet. Chemicals rush through empty channels that are as dry as ancient river beds in the desert. Wondrous burst ebb and flow against my own decay. Momentary oceans are created pulling sand in the undertow. Thunder wrecks silence from a foreign place. These strange lands reside within me. I am my own creator. Primordial mathematics are ignored daily. The struggle within my mind never ceases. A person with some degree called it depression. But I am not a sinkhole. The floods are in my mind. Deluges I can’t control. I am more than these fluid consequences. Dust and salt combined to walk and talk.