sunday afternoon when the caffeine wears off


The cold flows from the windowpane

to my fingertip

finding a home in the maze

of minuscule lines and coils

etched there.


I can picture a haze of cold air that hovers between

the glass and the tip of my nose.

I wonder briefly about energy loss,

form my lips and tongue around the words

entropy and thermodynamics.



I have tried to be kinder to myself


I am always angry at my body

for doing what bodies do

I try to see my flesh as a canvas or

a friend or

at least something other

than an enemy.


I tell myself to look outside and see

that nature is beautiful the way it was created

but then I am distracted by the thin, brittle branches of the trees

black, damp and skeletal without their lush leaf clothing

and my gentle thoughts turn wretched with longing.



are bullshit.

I tell myself no,

you are magic

I fight back


because who

could believe that.


and it goes. and it goes.