After all these tribes of drifting lines and lives have fallen into a greater disrepair, 

where were those who fell through the tines
Fell from these times
a finer place
a wren’s nest
a downy crest

What will the mirror tell you that you are today?
What things did you watch becoming
while imagining it was you

 
We are finding a bridge home,
a stack of buildings 
Forgotten violets, I hope
the sound of the ground moving beneath your feet

Whilst meanwhile
a near state of febreezian hell
A mind numbing, soul crushing lung ripping state

an addictive and hungry pocket pet
A meter eating minutes at a time
Being pulled apart in all directions
a glowing eye is watching
and reading from the other side
licking up each cursive word backward
from the other side of the screen
learning so much more about me
then I am about it

I’m learning to write
so lightly
light falling about the room
I think I’d rather look
at my own handwriting occasionally
the letters come out so beautiful
so human

they dance