let rosie come over

i'm actually not sure if i'm coming over tomorrow
- is all i really need to say, that's the meaning of it, the literality, the logistic, the lie

i'm not sure it'll help anything. i don't think it'll do anything great for anybody.

i told you i told her i need to hug you, it's very important, the school will stay standing but i need to get in my car and drive

but i just stood there and stared and nobody cared and a specter came in the doorway prepared to spook me out of my skin

i don't want to come over tomorrow
and stand there staring at you, sit there looking at my shoes, lie there with my gaze hiding behind the dog's

enthusiasm

i don't have anything left, i fear
i left it all lingering in last year's year

the nothing in me is what makes me nauseous, trembling and unsure

there are things i can't tell anybody and i'm sick of my own damn head - i'm writing this to you now as a note of things that must remain unsaid

i don't want to come over and say nothing to you

but that's how it is. what can you do?