nov 11

Sarah says it's just a dream
I heard her whispering
manic in November
my feet fight this orbit and
I imagined everything

foolish like we had a connection
—there's nothing here but cold smoke
the chemical illusion I allude to
in another painful string of lyric

hairs on my arms raise involuntarily at the sound
pure tones from another poet I admire
but our islands sink apart and
the only thing we have in common

is a certain sadness infused with authenticity
clinging self-destructive tendency
both self-incorporated as non-entities
and a vague way with words...