Tagged: hopelessness

on an overgrown

on an overgrown
lot, signs of a pandemic –
perhaps more or less

indistinguishable from
abandon, loss, hopelessness

between the end and

between the end and
the end of the end, there is
little more to say –

there are memories within
memories that pull us in and out

even in the key

there is an old, new

there is an old, new
paralysis – a hitchhiker
on the most bearable
days, a parasite on
the worst – that pins
down a hand, an
arm, a leg, a morsel
of every hour, crushing
the cells and membranes
of day. we feel
sick about it all
the time, emerge
from the stupor
spasmodically to ask
one another for best and
worst case scenarios,
readjust our negativity
bias for a version
of survival