All I wish for is uncertainty. Yet all I know is the gravel stuck in the palms of my hands, the cuts across my shoulders, and the broken frame that carried me so far.

My days get earlier

About to head to work, drop my backpack, print midterms for philosophy, and then finish the lead role in YL/TW film at 6pm.

The horizon line is far off and my neck is too stiff to look back because back is broken all the way until today. Will the hurdles stand as high as the stakes in my mind? Or will what comes of time be white to the blackness left behind?

Withinside

Something like the gleaming steel doors that wait behind
barbed wire and bared teeth, locked up in the frontal lobe
of half shrouded conviction. Can't hold a candle to it, for
a shadow cast may become a place to hide. Looks just like
the sun and dances like it, too. Spewing volcanic regret-
me-knots, eight out of nine times tying ropes at wrong
distances cinching tight around the neck.
Unknowingly radiant. Urging on these arms in which
you long to lay. Pretending that the warmth inside
has collapsed and gone.