"Hello, It's Me"

I'd write a poem

if time weren't awful about it

pinning my neck against rare

against heir against care

what does it want

this constant pressing burr

i might be time

biting itself raw while

time while colors

come true in time sorry

you, we weren't meant

to get here now against

upstream of the soul's angst

is a platform 

i suck like a barnacle on beauty

crying at what i have to eat

landing a fish of hearts

joining a club