Fuzz
Like a thought of fuzz.
Combines like chicken claws.
Similar to how January doesn’t like anyone.
Enters my mind like a speck of gratitude.
Or everlasting stuff and weirdness.
Like a thought of fuzz.
Existence is a steering wheel speckled with glazed over feelings.
Enters my mind with patience.
Everywhere like perforations.
I have enough teetering in my pocket.
Lasts all February.
Curling, breathy, bearing weight and nothing more.
Like a thought of fuzz.
Floats for a while.
Drops down everlasting.
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