I used to write a lot,
I had a lot to say.

These days I am quieter,
It's easier that way.

I looked outside and saw
The leaves had fallen off,
The grass had yellowed
Some time ago.
I did not notice
For quite some time.

I saw my hands in the glow of clouds
And wondered,
How long has it been?
How much time has gone by?

I want so much more
Than four walls and a bed,
To simply wake up,
pillow under my head,
A meal in my stomach
But I am simply fed up.

The way set in place
By society, blindly
Tapping my way through
A 9-5, 8-6, 7-9,
Why?

When did I lose
The dream for something more?
I am drowning, weighed down
By rigid rules and indecision.
I worry it's too late to save me.

Two grey sneakers
On a narrow, dirt,
Forgotten path.

An indescribable,
Unbearable urge:

To run away.
To have it.
The boy,
The girls,
The dog.

The house
With a roast
In the oven,
An aroma of carrots
In the air.

Leaves colored
And falling.
A fire going.

No where to be
And be happy about it.
What a dream,
What a dream.

They say when you die,
Cryonics can bring you back.

I lay motionless and cold,
Hopeful that life will, one day, return.

Black and milds
Mask the darkness
Of a cold, rainy,
Starless night.

They fill my lungs
The way that headlights
fill the fog,

Leave bits of Ashes
In the cushions -
Glowing, then gone

Now all that is left
Is a hole in the seat,
And a smell I can't get rid of.

I can fit
In the crook
Of your arm
And the space
Between your lips
And the gaps
So inviting
Between your fingers.

I can fit
On the edge
Of your bed
And the cushion
Of your couch.
Sink your head
On my pillow
Of a chest.

I can fit
Pans of veggies
In the oven,
Fill our mouths
With a temporary
Substance, some
Sustenance.

I can fit
In your phone
As a number,
Paint your background
With the spackle
In my eye.

I can fit
so many spaces,
and places,
and people,
and things,
just anywhere but in.