shatter me

The label on the jar read “Overly complicated relationship fund”

I laugh and chuck a few coins in,

Celebrating the savings for another rainy day.

It’s been dry as a bone here as of late; the seasonal changing from long pants to shorter skirts, some with long jackets.

Colors ranging from the denim blue to the golden sunset, and those pretty-in-pink bows; tied delicately around the center just slightly off point.

He whispers something or other in my general direction, but I pay those words no mind

Seeing how he’s already packed and ready for the next flight out. Yellow taxi waiting at the curb. Might have been an Uber, maybe a Lyft. . .

(I was in the kitchen making waffles at the time)

Not feigned indifference, simply absolute. Pouring several glasses to prove a point;

That I can hold my own glass high above head,

Spilling every thing like tea on a table,

The fifty-two card pickup

& I’m still holding all the cards.

judgement

She puts the cards down

After shuffling them a thousand times over; mixing every overarching archetype with deft precision

“As the chaos of the universe, so is the chaos of the cards; show us what we need to see,” whispering wonders in a smoke filled room

through ancient times we’ve sought refuge in mystical principles

Like a pet rock

Hardened stone scrap

Seeking meaning in the deeper principles

Something akin to bewilderment

Like the first opening of the eyes

blink blink

still running

“There’s something in the cup,” she told me; arching her back and yawning slightly.

“You left it there,” I replied, deadpan expression. I still don’t understand people, or how they state the obvious.

Must be something in the imagination, or better yet the folds of paper

A reimagining of three dimensional objects

Taking over a two-dimensional playing field

Playing with words, the magical thinking that

One day I’ll wake up.

ah, there it is again

I’m finally able to identify it

The unknown unknown that has plagued me for eons

I sense that something is there

Running rampant with scissors in my mind

Cutting into the psyche, a shave and a haircut; these two bits reigning

Raining down stars

Consumption of the void

As if to collapse in on itself like a black hole

Swirling