spilt on
spinning
another metal-goodnight another
"I hope we're alright"
darling it's Sunday
honey it's numbers like,
four and
ten; it is fourteen, I'm spent
I'm done saying I'm
bent and yours and-or-hers, I'm
again I am, against this
might as well say
tired, my god
I'm allowed to be quiet
I can't fix tired or change what's burnt
I won't
move for you if it hurts
I won't
if it hurts
& I can float from humility but
I won't if you serve it
I
do not think it is worth it
Sunday's