keight yuellig


buzzing all day and night from
unarticulated thoughts from
indescribable realities

unidentified musing careening through space on tilted axis
until it crash lands into wide-ruled lines, cemented in praxis



there is not meter
to convey the rhythm of the past four years

one continuous res hit, the domino days
knocking into one another, the safety net
of adolescence weakening every hour

there is no rhyme scheme
to accommodate having a panic attack
while being in love, or orgasming while
waiting for your prescription to be filled

or laughing while you watch your
possessions burn

there is no proper form to describe
the neat pile of freshly snipped cerulean
hair on the same alabaster bathroom tiles
where they found your grandfather
lifeless and cold

I wonder if the words are safer
held tight to the tip of your tongue
where no one else can hear them
let alone deem them