be serious, now
There is a yawning spectrum along which the disconnect might be found, emplaced.
said siken, someone has to leave first. there is no other way, no myriad
but even now, in the attic, the light is changing. through the turtle tank, eternal noise
it is not the constancy that abides with us in fear; it is not the routine i am afraid of
melancholy casts its familiar grooves into our nights without distinction, discernment
and the light changes. what is right in my mind does not dispel when greeted with harsh reality
i ask myself, lonely and nearing to vomit from the bony discomfort, what it is i want.
what would help you, friend? what brings you nearer to peace?
loneliness may most truly be contrived from the wish that things would stop happening.
but they will keep happening. without you. in so many different ways