wilt, bitch.

wilt, then.

is it so easy to silence always moving lips,
so simple to let death dissolve on the tongue
like listerine breath strips?

wilt,

but i do not, find myself unable,
just as
i am unable to do most things.

and in those moments when i disappear and it all becomes neutral,
the same,
meaningless or immensely powerful;
in those moments when i cannot differ and it seems highly irrelevant,

i question
what it is to wilt
and what it could be
to bloom.