Chew your way into a new world. Munch leaves. Molt. Rest. Molt again. Self-reinvention is everything.
I give up on myself
every other day it seems
on visions on dreams on believing in power to do anything in this one life of mine
put me to work on these days
shovel in hand work on the beds
brush to board create I’m ‘supposed to’
under covers as the day turns to done
satisfied enough I meant something in this day
at least something
the next day the sun sidling up the horizon alighting the windows
I burn again
visions I can’t tamp down
regardless.