day 12

i am a wanderer

the feeling of disappointment has never felt so much like home

i feel it

like warmth between my toes

back flat on pigeon stained park benches

closed eyed and grown on apathy.

the i don't cares grow on like moss

rock hard boulder

smoldering thoughts like

spontaneous combustion.

where

did the time go

where did the

times

go

i am a wanderer

lost in the times lost

i am rock hard spirited

wilting away

shove me in solidarity

feels like moss between split ends

and split second decisions

stop

where does the wanderer go when the wanderer is tired?

when the wanderer is tired

the wanderer stops

i collect myself like moss stained rocks

left in the solitude of isolation

i am the echo in coral reefs

no one will ever swim close enough to hear

i bellow

like a yellow belly salamander

whose made home to a smoldering boulder

where does the yellow belly salamander go when its home is on fire?

the wanderer doesnt have a home for it

and the wanderer doesn't know when to stop wandering.

stop

wondering

where everything

goes