(no subject)

[artisticfunk]

i can sink
and sink-
just maybe forget
on this plush
cotton chair
of no regrets-
I'm exhaling now
forcing my feet
down the dark-
the dripping-
that accostomed
sight
of forgone thought-
the room full
of strangers
who can
only guess-
can only draw
nebulous lines-
me on a splintered
bench,
crying to your
plastic comfort
while underneath
anything sky-
my black reasons
beneath white tears-
warm secreted
milk-
time and only
its fateful
conductor
conducts
my awful convulsions-
throws of
motherhood
or
womanhood
i could not
know-
where is peace?
the solace
of my soul?
the certainty
in what
I thought
was certainly
no risk?