someday i’ll be too busy to notice the vampires the sun wakes me up and i know who i am maybe the chaos will always be there but i’ll find a way to break it down into mulch and grow pears and herbs and gardenias from what’s left of me it takes a while to accept that the shadows matter and i can’t pretend to know the watermelon lollipop without the tongue that exists only to melt it away to turn it into nothing until all that’s left is a paper stick it might feel like freedom now but it can’t forever i’ll pull down the curtains and never snooze an alarm again the worst thing i can think of is writing the same poem each day for the rest of my life and everyone knowing it but me