I sit here and write
in a room too dark, not white.
Minus love and minus quite
-a lot of (other) things-

I built this chair I sit in
in this room too dark, not white.
A place I've never been in,
-and that is not alright-

I built the desk too.
Mahogany wood and burnt tears;
A brew of epic proportions. It's true.
-and you, I fear, are soon to disappear-

Anxiety in my extremities
a familiar ringing in my ears,
I just wish it would all freeze.
-But that certainly won't stop these tears-

And I doubt much of anything will-
or would