“No matter how much you revisit the past, there is nothing new to see.”
— Robert Tew
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“this decay, this hope, this mouthful of dirt, this poetry.”
— Margaret Atwood, from Selected Poems II: 1976 - 1986; “Mushrooms,”
oh and here’s the whole damn universe,
here to prove that my
unflinching tendency toward
loneliness
will go on without me,
wrap its cold hands around my pale
neck and squeeze,
regardless, and because of,
who’s watching. Happy New Year,
witch of the past. you terrible nightmare. drain me.