i’m happy all of the time.
or maybe my clock is broken
maybe my clock is broken and it doesn’t matter because i can’t even read the hands
maybe i don’t know anything at all but it’s been a very long time since i last felt the smoothness of your alive skin.

i’m happy some of the time.
during those in between sleeps where i can forget
where i can forget that i have been cracked open.
i feel sort of like something inside of me has been, not missing
more like-
stolen
like yesterday i had ribs
and today i'm standing in front of your coffin
and there are flowers on your dress
but i don’t want to think about that.

i’m happy all of the time.
even if i don’t quite remember the feeling
it’s sort of like
when you’ve been cold for so long that you start to feel warm
only you aren’t warm
you’re dying.

i’m happy some of the time
but mostly i think,
i think i’m just lying.