the tub littered with stars
rivaling revalations
I can't write fast enough.

cinnamon steeped utterances filtering into the hall

I admit that I'm always putting the most thought and sincerity
into my conversations
with the universe.



really:

I'm here talking to myself

a thought drifts by...

I should be worried.






right?




I catch that thought
tuck it away, quick.

because to be honest,
just between you and me:







this is the most sane I've ever felt.

one day we lock eyes.
the next it's backs turned
pretending that her lines
mean nothing to me

painting rooves of the houses
dreading wet feet
and there are stormclouds


(scrawled on a toshi's takeout menu.)