Too tired to turn the tide of a pastel bitterness
rising between the calm mute but not muted beauty
on an island fallen in the between spot of freedom and acceptance.
I leave no mark traced here but one that collectively blurs
what it means to have a footprint. This place I so lovingly fear
for what it does to my mind in moments stopped, unknown to others.
And suddenly a hankering for a drug that does not take,
but give, knowing there are none to speak of. But I will continue
to hope for the day that sweet stupid forgetfulness graces my aching head.
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