27

last few moments
of feeling everything

bundled winter
that runs so deep in me

i’ve set out just to get by lately
i find my time is coming back around

chasing paper
and leaving little notes

erasing stigmas
and trying not to breathe

i hold my breath from disposition
i hold my breath until my face turns blue

but in these dripping drops of sand
executing me
i find i’m nothing less than mostly whole
the most i can ever hope for

i was born this way
the way i am now
all mannequin stuffed to the brim
with the tree limbs that the lightning
strikes down

i creature of habit
holy brain
all one million thoughts
never time to listen
too busy feeling what’s coming in
the next moment
aren’t we all we all

step halfway through your mirror
and chase the time like quickly fading life

there’s a shadow
that’s casting over me
like clouds on mountains
i feel my destiny

i was born to make it through
these 27 years
come tomorrow
and in the passing traffic song
i just might find a fraction
of something worth saving
until this next life
come tomorrow

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2016

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

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