They learn to fly.

Now that I've transformed myself,
into a baby bird: perhaps,
it is time, to stop.

My shoulder, God.

Beside me,
Remind me,
That I'll be,
Okay.

Survival.

How I move on.

Beholder.

Sometimes, like now, when I feel like my emotions
are unbearable, I stop eating. Or rather, I eat in
tiny, rigidly enforced taste portions.

Like, a spoonful of cold beans every two hours.
In between I drink apple cider vinegar, lots
of tea, and an occasional beer.
Or beers.

I lose rapid wait, and my short term memory
begins to fail, immediately.
So, thusly, I feel like, well, win-win.

I can't remember what is causing me such
fucking heartache. And as I lay in bed at
night, starving, I run my hands over my
ribs, and feel beautiful.

Locked out.

Me.

Winter, downturn.

Because, I was happy. I just forgot that it was okay to feel that way.

January morning, haiku.

Cold, my wood bones shake.
Sunshine, my only saviour,
I hold to your wake.