I open my mouth,which
buys me some time,
stalling until something to say
comes to mind, but
nothing comes out.
Binge drinking cocktails of wishes and tree pollen,
keeps my head swimming
and throat dry. Lacking the balance to walk
through the lines,
and the vision to see through the shit-
i'll stay quiet.
I envy my windshield; freely washing
itself clean, or staying dirty
But even he is controlled
by unseen fingers. Twisting wrists induces
I used to like the trees, thinking
of them as noble creatures
with life giving talents, until their
seamen coated my eyes,
lungs and faith.
I close my mouth and taste
their sin, their guilt
but I say nothing...
Binge drinking cocktails of wishes and tree pollen.