Many things end

Meaningfully

I bloom

Many feet run

I follow them

Graffiti came

and washed away

the mess of birth

I carved a pumpkin

In my dreams

Many things bloom

In bursts

Without warning

Hell can’t exist

If the smile is

too crooked

not orange

We were too fast

To notice the defeat

Undone laces at the start

The blabbermouth

The incoherence

Too silly for meaning

I almost understand

that side of Him

distracted and random

in every moment of my life

Poetry can be louder

than theatre

in moments like these

Wonderous and weird

Good morning