Progress is a peaceful day,
when no one brings up the past,
or the future
We waste so much energy
shoveling documents into the flames
Progress is forgetting my name and
appearing in a strangers hands. Wonder if he wants more than that
skin, you hide so well. His calculated
risk vs. My lack of research.
Does fire in the belly count as a medical condition?
Progress is an open heart.
Rust colored pools and a gleeful
grin, mine. I’d rather be broken,
and in your hands.