Short Attenuate Poems

Something’s under my skin
Afflicting my every breath 
I might lose this conflict
Maybe if I 
Open a window of new breezes
Rattling in my attenuate conscious 
So now I am 
Feverously irascible
At the only creator of myself
The path was lined with nails and pieces of glass
And I collect them along the way 
And spit them far from my heart
Because I’m run out of origin
I am standing in a puddle 
Nearly empty...

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In my dreams, nothing has ever been so clear.
In my dreams.

Not passion, but
exhaustion, 
heavy sky pressing my mind
hoping for higher, higher
clinging sideways and down the ceiling. 
Days touching nothing.

IF I’ve listened to you.
Seeing the world is not capturing the world.
I am a fragile thing.

The priest mouth full of words
Does not attenuate thirsty for silence dying.

But, strangely alive
The birds will come,
Praying keep me awake
Fire, ash, wind. I wait...

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