here is a debt paid.
how long will growth feel
like burning? I’m sick of
(But I do like burying things.)
The Earth I’m rooting into feels barren. You say thats not what counts.
The Lenten Rose grows regardless.
I say, so do weeds.
Amends curl like pencil shavings. I’m all jacked up on coffee apologies. I’ve vomited letters
You say, commit to the journey.
I say, I don’t know where it ends.