Pieces

I'm trying to talk
myself to the presence
The spacing between lines seems inviting
cry for help
inside the phlegmatic frame

Sometimes I find myself in your arms
sometimes I unnoticeably sweep myself under the doormat
sometimes I get catapulted into the future with a space cannon
sometimes I notice myself fragmented into the past

Floating in the ocean I created
near you stretching the borders of the puddle
With the starry sky
we can breathe
Time really is a concept


4/2/2020