Overripe

There's a long-due conversation
that I still don't wanna face
cause it's got a mask of iron
and blood dripples from beneath.
Words are dead-ends
looks are bare
but what I fear the most
is the naked true aware:
sleep is sweet and fair
reality a spiky snare.
I want no pain
I yearn no panic
the thoughts afloat smell overripe:
why should I put them through my mouth
and bear their hype?

River

If you just could, river, wash away all my fears
And leave only the quiet knowledge that
Good things are here
Wholes are one
And no one else's truth I need to hear,
But mine.
No mines in the field left behind
My feets touch your silver beard.