Rapscallions
Are no better than
Regular scallions
auto stocks
power locks
you caught me
dismantling my soul
And sat there
waiting
I find myself
Nowhere
All
At once
wondering how words
Come apart
Like nomadic
Gestures
to the door
It’s not that I’m
No good
At hints
Anymore
It’s just that
Blunt force trauma
Becomes her
Muted
autumn
Colors
don’t exist
for a reason
