pizza with russia & others. talk about marriage, dropping acid. for hours afterward, we walk around the neighborhood or sit on the sofa. sometimes i find myself thinking so these are friends! & wondering why i have to remind myself.

more & more i cant tell the difference between sound & silence. numb in a desk, sprawled on a stranger’s sofa. so many strong opinions! facts stacked like a stairwell; i need a handrail. am losing my will. to be mostly mouth, to form thoughts worth. im turning towards stillness. scribbling its story. tossing cognition into the trench. fuck higher enlightenment. time to cull my body into existence.

sober at the bar. silent in the car. can’t be bothered to move or speak when the stars are inhaling. this room wants nothing to do with you. the sofa sinks beneath yr weight, door swings open/shut open/shut as an invitation—leave. but leave? home is a porch pace, kitchen where fleas fuck in half-eaten boxes of triscuits. conversations here are tried on, tossed off. if the boy sitting next to you turns the light off, it means yr going to be touched. in the morning, the sun will shun yr nakedness. you’ll befriend a tree. the neighbors wont wave back. repeat.

let the hours rot. beneath my bed there is only cat fur. on top i shift across sheets trying to sleep. headache, stomach cramp, books with split spines. sister bitches about the laundry, the smell of smoke folded into the creases of my body.

when the phone doesnt ring, i know its him.

HOW SMALL THEY ARE, HOW FAR AWAY