And each
bad dream
I have 
about you 
is but
one more 
tick towards 
your nothingness 
and soon
my night 
like my
day will 
be free
from you 
and finally 
I’ll rest

I don’t know 
how much much
is anymore or
lots how much 
is lots is
lots more much 
more than more 
or is more 
more than lots 
I know less
less is easy 
easier than little 
but more and 
much and lots 
I’ve no idea 
give me less
give me little 
those I know 
those I do 
all too well 

Some days 
these words
behave like 
obnoxious neighborhood 
children who 
walk on
the grass
of this 
old man 
their footprints 
seen but
never caught 
and that’s 
all I’ll
say lest
I get 
a reputation 

Some far off
voice some random 
text reminds me 
calls to me 
prompting a memory 
and then wonder
what and where
and when if
like a cup
of coffee knowing 
how it tastes 
but always looking 
forward to hold
and to sip
to taste and 
to simply enjoy 
and then boom
here we go 
down the path 
over the hill 
into the valley 

I’ve had less
I’ve had more 
but in this 
I have found 
my own enough 
funny that line 
was always invisible 
especially when more
but when less 
it’s much easier 
to see it 
appears or reappears 
like those deserted
highway mirages shimmering 
in the distance 
warning maybe promising 
yet almost always 
prompting I’m here