poems past, years ahead

trailing blood
like pendants on a
chain, dripping water
in my sink. i think i'm
lost, i think i'm scared
i don't think so much
these days
the water's colder
anyway

this is my cave
surrounded by my letters
this is denial, this is
no better
than a whisper of a
doubt, let me in
then push me out
i am dried up on the shelf
in sand and paper, gasoline

like fallen dreams, fallen soldiers
in the grass (in the past)
my new life is
kind of bloody, kind of
faint