Apocalypses

Tangled in the
dream warfare
of my mind,

trenching through
the apocalypse,
looking for the signs.

Lips pressed to skin
like starlight,

creating worlds to
replicate an anomaly,
a feeling I can’t escape
when I wake,

reaching into the sky,
trying to find north
past the fixtures.

Breaching from
the rim of glass,

water in my
suitcase,

avalanches
in my third sight,

in love with the
god with no eyes.

I love like
constellation,
wholly and contrite.

The apocalypses
were only ever mine.

Soft metaphors
I can’t find
when I walk
through the zombies
of my real life.

I’m here,
in the shadow of the sun,
waiting in all the ways
where I come
completely
undone.