i come from nothing, but i’ll find my way of this
as i grow and grasp to close these intangible tabs
reaching for dreamy words to shut up withery skies
straining to clamp oyster eyes together; a stop gap
for saying everyone’s pearls are the same-same.
i come from backlogs, from avocado green couches
from whence sprang some well-grounded whispers;
but i believe in night, and i believe it’s okay to sleep
on heartache as i’ve supposed i’ll be living a long-long
time, so help me God in these nothing-but-nothings.
for Real Toads