the path continues its momentum in this
blank space, shifting without resistance.
i am full of empty soda cans ready to
be recycled, valuable only to the poor.
the word love clouds my vision with its
ambiguity of context, but I feel saturated.
surrounded and enclosed by my confusion
of wanting, I become the calm pilot and wait.
i know that I am achieving my goal while finding
its disworth, I'm not just a drug dealer afterall.
the moon looks so tender tonight, its light
mocks my moth-like attraction to the pulse.
i am a rootbound sativa, and the
soil's nutrients are wearing thin.