it’s impossible to tell 

if my hands will ever warm up 

by a touch so 

sweet & thoughtless. 

burnt leaves scatter the slick 

glass streets with the change 

of bitter air reddening 

my cheeks chapping my lips.

garbage day is tomorrow.

cabinets moan in the rain,

rotting & waiting for nobody.

i stand in the rain, rotting 

in the flesh that’s seen 

this season more than i

desired.

.

(10/19/25, song-inspired series)