wildscape. literary journal

to the person who will one day die in the same second as me:
by afoe

i sink a gray sun from the evening of my mind. another
sort of dream. gunmetal equinox, grotesque
as perfect balances go,
this ticking

tongue is engraved
with a number
it can't count to...

i take a small swig of water, stare
out the window, balmy buildings
pass me, with rain, i remember... 

this comfort is so automatic,
i ride the quiet car on an express,
i ignore entire neighborhoods 
without so much as a sigh
returning. 

does it make you mad, too?
all of this, going away

about the author // afoe