postscript.

flair for the fantastical.

the tale of sharkbear, the bear shark.

i'm pulling along a red cart.
inside the red cart:
1. a pocketful of luck.
2. your knife.
3. an ambiguous heart.

i sleep of you to dream. an island with no dock.
gargling throats and safety pills, they're throwing rocks. why?
my glass house.
a girl to write home about.
and leagues between us.
the weather.
whistling kettles help the heart settle.
but its okay, i've got envelopes to send.
hands are shaking and consolation waving.
the only one who's read the book.
a handsome wreck.
i am.

An A for Theatricality

breathing life into old and life begins anew. a reincarnation.

i'm refuting god, i'm a charity, i'm a floating note.

caught playing with fire, i sit there and watch the flames dance.

its not my fault, and i'm not to blame.

this feeling is relative. this feeling is unmeasurable. yet i lie an adjacent ruler for an expectant remark.

wish there was a detach button. like on those space rockets.

then i could drift and let the winds take me as gravity pulls me to a newer place.

then i would be as a free as a bird.

then i would dream.

then i would be complete.