Day ?
the crisp cry
each new birdsong
delirious—tangled
heavy under the weight of
every
little
thing
famished, she sings
from inside that chimney.
Day ??
squandered over the bathtub edge
my bathroom fitted, with no sink.
on edge
bile filling my roots. another time
I try to change, ruin it—again.
strange; I don’t remember much
of not feeling this sting.
indefinitely, so.
Day !!??!!!!!!!??????
no thoughts, no thoughts ; no wonder
so many things are lost at night.
sheer thoughts, do I want to know?
do I dare antiquate
things I’ve put on ice, spit out
in one full sweep.
burnt chocolate never tasted so good.
Day 47
If I tried a little harder—
stopped short by my inadequacies,
back into slumber, do I linger.
Back to stoic nonsense
one per hour,
one per day.
Chastising me.
This time tomorrow, coming up
on Day 48,
my curtains will wither
my tongue will shake.
But deep inside—cruel acidity
will find a way out.
