(I am often silenced) by the crackle of dead leaves (as they give up) the ghosts beneath my feet,

and every september when the leaves had fallen, leaving trees naked as my snowy kneecaps

I sat in classrooms filled with minds shallow enough to stand in fully clothed, ankles barley submerged

We throw words at communal canvases,expecting them to mean something because we were shouting

I tell you I'd like to catch fire, cupping it in my hands, sporadic and sputtering flame writhing from between my fingers,

I imagine it swallowing the slews of dirty dreams that stacked like mirrors (on) my feet,

engulfing us in firefly kisses as if I were somehow invincible and (my excellence,)

steaming, came exasperated spilling out from between my ribs

(I) imagined how uneasily they'd tumble from my lips, sitting heavy as molassas

(hid)ing in the crevices of my cheekbones, fragmenting underneath my tongue as if

I was delirious (in my will  to taste life)'s stuttering flames.