transference

i wouldn't worry too much about it
my heart is a fickle home these days
filled to the point of explosion
with longing unfulfilled

i'll get a handle on it, i swear
what i feel is just a reflection
a mirage in the desert of my soul
no need to worry about me

my cracked vessel oozes out
some of its contents have
puddled at your feet
please don't worry about me

my life is just too much abstraction
with no concrete proof of any good kind
only the remains of my yesterday
where inky clouds befouled my water

my heart's just looking to make a statement
to prove to myself i'm capable
of something a bit more worthy
than what i've displayed before


--bruised orange