Mail (day 2367)

Letter’s in the mail to a woman I’ve never met
Confessed it all in one fifteen letter script
Could this have just been a trick?
Sloppy like the moon on a dreary midnight
A newly appointed butler hanging upon my every word
Carried it too far for I’m an ant within the bathroom
Headphones on a slow bus lost in darkness
Two beats I keep tapping on the wooden sided seat
I’m still working on a better wrong
And tomorrow I’m going to have a word with the mailroom.

Thrice See Thrice Blind (day 851)

My fingers have turned to dust
Allotting memories two square feet
Of layered hemp paper

Verbally spewing thoughts
That catch like pitch
To unwritten scripts

I’m lost
I’m good with maps
Thine eyes, thrice see thrice blind

Then too shall winds sweep
Lifting footsteps laid deep
Leaving unwritten the paths going back