Welcome mats, and overprescribed ******
that my cousin gifted me on Tuesday.
I don't sleep anymore, because i'm always up ruminating.
Not about anything righteous or measurable -
just eyes closed, pacing narratives.
Breaking off one rib at a time,
to save man, to give him her.
Sitting loudly under neon bar signs,
drinking absinthe with Van Gough’s depression.
Hope is a dangerous thing,
so it’s better not to have any.
I would have done a boring man’s laundry
just to form an attachment over my own delusion.
Love is a dangerous thing,
so it’s better not to have any.