Good.
Morning.
               I hate what you stand for.
The pleasantries that neither of us can cling to when reality comes knocking
in through the flimsy curtain and
Where is my comfort?
It is contained in solitude
until I've been alone all day

A woman once told me that when you're old you need work to keep the blood at a steady
boil.
                                          Well,
I'm 24 and I haven't reached a simmer all year.
Good.
Evening.
             You're hiding something.
So, stay over and see if you can muster up my youth
& douse my flaming fear
with
every
drop
of
boil
running through your veins.
Good.
Night.
         There you are again.
Just as I remember you.
You're a consistency that I can't quit.
And
if nothing else,
it makes my blood
run
in
circles.