it seems too easy to turn back
on these regrets which are
so far from you,
so unbound
to you.

my pen has been leaking red ink
grey markers, black crayon. this
is too reminiscent of struggles
in lines & designs & oh-too-much
((oh too soon))
i've been climbing all over to
get away from this & still return,
return like some mindless moth
to a kerosene flame. it
is exactly the same as
this time, last year.