Shake the static off your blurred edges.
I can feel along your sketches,
that skin, the yellow chaos inside you.
Compliment your face,
all “X’d out” eyes and brilliant grin,
faded brains, but I can’t say I blame you.
Your foundations were built
on slick delta mud,
confused by construction
that outpaced your tired hands.
Red sky backgrounds hold you,
but you’ve been colorblind so long
that the sky could be on fire
and you might not even notice.
Not sure I could even call
what I am doing, “Comfort.”
You’re not asking for anything,
other than to be noticed.
And I see you.
I see you full,
and blown,
and exactly where you want to be.
Needle fine dialogue,
shaking like the Richter Scale.
I bet that wave
is gonna be something
this side of The Rockies.
DJR – 2023
