a dehisce to the moonrise
an abandon in amnesia
rooted between honesty and a lie;
eerie strange dreams
in the mouth betraying, vomiting
words w/o consequence
shimmering as a child
in the growing year of winter;
whispers in art death,
knowing it could be better.
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Pseudopsychosis.
Poems and psychosis.
dehisce.
Pseudopsychosis. 
9 responses to “dehisce.”
Oh yes!
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❤ ❤
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Indeed. 💜😥😌
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No one ever said it was easy being a poet, but it can sure be worth it. 💗💕
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💕 Yes.
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❤️❤️
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Goose bones
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skippin stonez
moonlight
lunaticz
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Plenary of mal de mer
an icebox
asbestos
push the ghosts
off the bed; it’s too early
angel-like
they whore to the moon
like a cut
we laugh
like lunatics.
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