jumping on the dating train again (okay I never really was ever on it lessbehonest) and it has been a RIDE.
Night shift poetry for your enjoyment:
the way the tide cycles our stars proximate
this intimacy is blessed,
sacred and agonizing.
I die daily for fate,
close enough if it’s
close enough to break me
sacrifice the future
on the bloodbright altar of the
here and now
hold you through all four horsemen
as the asteroid hits
when the ocean rises to bury us
while the long curve of radioactive fallout
shipwrecks our descendants wakeful