5:57 pm . never
so your voice doesn't quite
make me quiver to bits,
& that awful intelligence
you allow to permeate
flow
flood
it isn't what i'm looking for,
it isn't that fairytale.

because i love to watch people fall asleep in the back row of the lecture hall, love kicking off my shoes & look a mess most days. i don't discuss art deco at every given opportunity, don't exude that kind of confidence. i seem to find it false. will it be the end of that?

can't grasp the words
to articulate the night
i cried in the dark
for the sake of it,
for all the tired decisions,
incomplete altercations
& etcetera.

nostalgia . uncertainty