three strands of hair pushed into a shoulder of bodily warmth

when thoughts grow in complexity the foundation fades
into a distance that may as well be considered disappeared

feed me i can't eat on my own, the simplest things resist any
formulaic approach

it seems the smallest thing again unnerves me

find a thing to eat
kick it to show how violence is so nice
so nice to fight and kick at a simple thing
so bad go your nerves otherwise resistance has a limit before the tear

buckets of trout from which steam rises
inside of us a storm rises
the physical remains inconsolable