Modern Asylum - Wreck and Reference

My memories of young life were left to me in such a way, stuck rather than

cultured, and orphan

I whisper them to go away.

In modern asylum, white walls with all the perks of

white walls

I promised myself words like the sea.

I promised myself mescaline and flowers

I camped at the rivers edge in rusty silt not knowing the direction of the

current, but made a guess and thrust myself against it

Against all odds of peace, I wrote a letter about why life mattered and I threw

it away

In the dreams that are rationed to me I enter and I am entered.

Barely green

eyes and drying lips, I don’t sleep in an empty house and I am not empty,

white walls dense with images

If it turns it’ll never work, if it turns out the future is lavish brine with

no material with which we are to build our shelter

I won’t step in the same river twice, down future torrents with these

unfaithful reflections.

Like enormous pines growing out of the cement.

Scattered lights like tiny watchmen: ready