Words don’t soothe like they used to.
leaf
dust
layer
breeze
shelf
day
I tried all of these,
they didn’t fit here ______.
So I died the Fantastical Death,
suffered tremendous losses.
Everyone I knew has moved on.
Even the organ is out of tune.
The homes have all imploded.
I am left with little oxygen
and an itch for jazz.
What if propellant wasn’t required
?
Gas, bread, dough.
I moved soundlessly through the night,
I swallowed wind, my gills opened up.
No one around was alive
so I took my socks off,
tested the black waters.