SYNESTHESIA

In between the mundane seconds of a yellow Sunday afternoon and the stale poppies melting on my ill windowsill I hear your grey voice rushing in sea waves Echoing in my brain's camphoraceous caves Conquering my body like it's a war zone fighting for my sanity And the faces of your face are rip-offs clinging …

THE RISE AND FALL II

The clock is ticking... run, little one, run! as fast as you could before they get you hide behind the tree, and its leaves will shower you like confetti dig, little one, dig! ten feet below three flowers were cut today— Love, Hope, and Faith gather up their bones you shall cloak them with burnt …