we're a collision on course
of course.

antique phones are ringing
somewhere down the street.
you were a few houses off,
a few numbers wrong.

the day drags
like this existence
might not have an end.
i might live forever,
do you think i can?

the world is just
a container. holding
still while i
hold you down
in my head,
with my pen.

there aren't enough
hours in my
mondays.