(no subject)

[charlemoins]

I'm down here.

In this unnatural chilled-over room
(cavecave no sun cavecavecave)

pushing the words up through a straw wedged into tiny cracks in the earth

hoping that when they fall, they'll
(staytogetherdon'tletitbreak)

land looking just a little like the image rocking around inside my head.

Translation, interpretation, the usual bastardization,
(of the thought that is really mine)

but sometimes as it ends, when the fissures tighten and the light thins on my face,

when I turn away and begin to wait for another
(justonemore justonemore)

chance,

you hear me.