Morning Cold

gravel grit soreness

scraped through the tiny passages

bone aching through skin

sliding nausea down an unwilling throat

unwelcome it bounces back up

pain puddles in eye hollows

under cheeks ridges

residing in the trail of muscle gliding down the spine

hacking breath

tasting of disturbed lungs

one aural cavity closed

sealing the sounds to the skull’s other side

a longing for sleep

curled in the deep, warm recesses of unconsciousness

hearing the wind scatter it’s tears on the windows

chasing the unpleasantness

hot tea melts a bit of it away

Silent Mornings

for so long

if I turned inward

at all

i felt the ache

the comfort of it’s constancy



i reach for it

repeating the words in my head

that helped me survive

that helped me break

they are hollow now

ringing false and empty

this morning I  embrace

dour skies littered with crows

small smiles

sleepy breathing

earl grey, hot

the seagull, crow and squirrel on the balcony right now

sore shoulders and wet hair

dreams resound in echoes now

they make me nervous

exciting thrills of possibility

of stepping up