Sever

Your world-weary weekday head

It’s too full, too heavy

Smother

Your hurricaning, whirl-winding weekend heart

Too much passion, hot abandon

Lay down

Your workaday hands

Is there a trace of the peace that you held

Before the grasping for more?

Is there a green becoming?

Time terminated on the pining skin

Accidentally kicked the door clean off

Hinges of my mind just gave away

For how long has this rust been breathing?

Have I danced on the edge this whole time?

I’m feeling my, feeling my, feeling myself

I’m fleeing the scene and I’m screaming for help

I feel the beauty of my movement

Desire’s mutant tail

Detach to

The point of

Your lowest denominator

The simple

Sufficient

And the frugal is plenty

The places within

Sever or without

The places within