I hold nothing against me anymore.

some small failure of intuition leading me astray




there is time’s empty passing.

in different hours, it is put back.

if I know only temporal,

I know nothing of mobility

I dig for you God, like treasure.

I fingernails ragged filthy

hair too flies loose wild

scratch once more again into the depth

I am so sure You are there

there’ve been too many times

too many


No more for the sideways glance

for the love of propriety telling me to come back in

society has its way.

I follow my fingers~