6:37 pm . caustic
the solemn strings of a guitar
being picked, each at a time
everything gets to me.
makes me buy greasy food
sit in the park amidst
the strangest gale,
under a skyscraperstreetlight
in the dark, on a bench,
making acquantices of shadows
on the grassy floor.
i should have been home hours ago

nothing matters, it never did.
if all i can amount to
is something just like
this.

black concrete awash with yellow light,
to remind me that home is near
yet it's never felt so far away.

old coffee cups
i keep drinking coffee
there's nothing else,
i'd be sadder without it
it is entirely possible.

i'd be a wreck if i couldn't eat alone
don't intend to play the starveling, the waif
i just don't want you
to watch me
at the dining table,
being functional
being somewhat normal
because i've been a tearstained
mess from the moment i woke up,
because you always claimed
you had my happiness in mind,
that it didn't matter
everything will be okay

but then you go & press all
your weight against
my only way out.

nostalgia . uncertainty