my sad excuse for a tanka. bear with me.

sometimes i would just like
to vanish into the mist and
not be seen for a while; bitter me
can't do that. i'm distracted;
you.

i don't know if that'll suffice. i hope it does. if it doesn't. well it's okay i guess. im not really the tanka-kind.

summer's breath calms me even more;
just last year, i had the ride of my life.
how often than not do i embark in
relentless ripples of tears and jaunt;
happy one time, sad the other.

autumn's leaves bless me endlessly;
i shudder at the hideous sight of me
scraping off dried memories off the pavement.
what miniscule animosity haunts me
almost everyday; wow.

winter's crisp air flips my hair from
side to side; when will it stop? when all
of my hair falls to the ground, and all
tears and hell break loose? i will not wait
for that time to come. i am too scared.

spring brings no new hope for
a dying poet as i; am i allowed to ask
for more than the Fates think
i need? can i? i shrug; i don't know.
i dare not ask.