i am in every room
eclectic functions
grounded purpose
my
vulnerable brain
unruly mind
neglecting to preheat the oven
succumbing to the chorus that’s been following me for days
one by one
my
impotent blood
disobedient cells
failing to dream on my hands
yielding to the criss cross breeze and an adequate book
for a collection of moments
what
is
mine
good morning untitled
what happens now save every voicemail not that his tone would have been forgotten but to hear him call me tweety as many times as