i am home imagining myself
a year from now, alone
unfamiliar, with nothing to
remind me of who i am
with no one to
remind me that i am known
soon, a town
13.667 times smaller than
my home which ive previously
thought to be so humble
so rogue
if i thought i knew loneliness
i have a big storm coming

i can't fall asleep without someone's phantom
i cannot be the arms around me.
i've tried.
i've danced with jackets and i've fabricated the warmth
but still i lie awake
ten years old and the monster in the closet
takes form of a lover who lulls me
i wake up and invent their names
to give purpose to fantasy
and to trick me into worth

why can't i just be who ive always been
but reinvent myself
so that i dont face this world alone?
why do i have to make myself
convenient, conventional
in order to be worthy of
understanding

in bed for four hours and i
tell myself i just need to lay down

The streetlamps of the highway
Frame the void ahead
The horizon rises
Consuming the sky
The night reaches upwards
As if persuading us to succumb

Remember those foggy days, Afton?
I was with you when the snow melted

unlovable
for the last time I
will hope that another will come along
I hope that
Looking out these windows is a sign
that death is near
and nearer than you
I am so poorly written
i'm sick of it