i hit delete space
back to space next
hoping to figure out what im doing without making a mess


not sure how to make connections when left and right don't make things straight. my head is on backwards, placed left of the door, where you hung me out to dry. the ***** laundry you had in your backseat was more than just the jeans, button downs that took note of the fact. the rhythm i held my high with turned out to be off beat. we havent talked in days, months, years? it seems to only have been hours. the coach wears a stopwatch and tells me that if i want to be good enough i have to connect the dots. i dont really want to go to bed, but i dont want to stay awake when ive been thinking of all the ifs, ands, coulds. All the times I used my left hand when my kneecap begged to feel the concrete.