rabbits dart back in their hole if they don’t like what they see

Shredded circles ripped by images 

stages of development 

a harbor 

i hang out with help wanted friends

stitching together pieces of evidence to keep us whole, at least tethered in an effort to be acknowledged

we can’t do it alone

trust me

i spent years on that wall 

buried in books 

scurrying through malls 

the only time people stopped was to apologize for kicking me

at least, most did

i lost my eyes years ago

no ones using them

they were beaten bloody, ripped and torn 

the scorn worn from not knowing ‘we don’t go in there’

‘there’ was the pantry before dinner

‘there’ was soccer day saturdays

‘there’ was the house i had no choice to go to after passing through the plasma tunnel into this shell game

we started meeting a few weeks back

you gave me your baby blues

they used to be brown

to be fair, and feel like i have a part, you couldn’t push a shopping cart without my left hand 

and that north side kid made the plan, that although foul and not quite full we could use his mouth

until he has to move again

jane’s coming tonight with a couple of friends

rumor is they have hearts

senses stripped leaving us to stitch together the best of us to feel whole, a joining soul our final goal to complete one another and feel more than the holes that strangers, family, flakes and friends gave us as we rounded out the bends 

of life

If this doesn’t work out?

I’ll fold my clothes and myself on the top shelf of closets closed by cloudy days when grey pours from me and just, kinda, stays.

back in the hole