they times i have closed my eyes for,
they have arrived
i eat sweets, don't eat eggs
except when they make up an almost vegan pie
my evenings are full of paint
my mornings are full of clattering
i cry after yoga class
make burgers that barely bind
my art has turned pink, purple, pastel
my clothes have turned black
my memories dance forward in solo performances
i forget how to put them back
i bought a new plant named edward
i finally have a desk
i lay down on the stripes
with the weight of the ones i have left
i spend hours cleaning the bathtub
i never pick up any wine
i pray with the rise and the falling
ive got feet on eight different paths
the rain isnt rain
its just thunder
we attempted to graft some bamboo
it scared me today when you knew my mood
before it had even bloomed.