I faintly hear the metal frame of a bed grind against springs and screws
The sound of coming loose in the next room, both the bedframe and you
i tried to find solace in the television screen but the only distraction it has to offer me is an uncomfortably relatable message that reads: “lost connection.”
Im drunk again on a friend’s couch, keeping count of consecutive nights I’ve avoided my own house
And my sobriety
Pale ale prayers at four in the morning are the only times you’ll hear me confessing but not to god

just another ceiling