future echoes


The clouds are just as I

would paint them if I
did not have frozen hands.

Wind in the corner of
my eyes no more.

I travel to the broken clouds with my
grandmother's brain.

Evidence of accidents.

Today things and people won't
talk to me.
But this is what I asked for.

This would be just another dull record of my day and not creepy at all were it not the last thing I wrote in my sketchbook before the accident. Well, the grandmother's brain part is creepy in either case. That was the mri negatives I felt compelled to take home from my mom even though they freak me out.