words by dominic riccitello

i find our errors to be nothing but self evident
in a sense of mankind benefiting from the delicate
nature of our state of mind
becoming to be, yet failing to fall
from what it was in the moment
we let it all go
i find myself in statue moments
feigning from the past of how it was
instead of how i wanted it to become
from the errors i once had
i triumph from terror, fighting knights i once had
running to bliss from hallways of desire
i read chapters from ages which don’t make sense
because sense is something i only know from my point of view
like these words on pages only find sense to some
in ways they’re read because a rhythm only reads a way i allow
like the currents in rivers where i succumb to memories of you
reds to blues to yellows to high glances
from pills i used to take to wade my mind from you
and we’re singing in a tune i’ve only sung once before
for a man in glasses looking at me
from stairs down the hall
nearing our edges of bathroom porcelain
i’m pulling for oxygen, for elegance 
for words on paper you couldn’t read
for beds are broken with two in kind and two in mind
two in a pace without one ahead or one behind
i resign from inside echoes 
stages of you
blues and greens
how i always saw 
you