tiny little cracks

soup side instant coffee dreams
silly little dots on the
orange peel of the
growing tangerine

no thought that compresses
a single tear does help
sometimes

a little black wave of magic
turtle scale village inside the brain
does not do
a goddamn thing

no one ever told me the source of all of it
so I had to make it up as I went along
and now I know what it feels like
to be inside the mountain with the stone
and the weight of it is pushing me further
into
the tiny little cracks

forming in my head I think
maybe I should just shut up sometimes
and think about what I should say
but instead I let it all out
and the compression instant coffee
tells me to lay down

in a field of dirt I grow so green
if I could find the answer
maybe
I could
escape all of the troubles
I have found

little likes and fusions of words
make no sense when you are
slipping down a hill
made of yourself

so the single tear that falls from your eye
tells you not to look up into the sky

and you look up anyways
only to find out that the entire thing
was made up
in your
own
head