Sitting regarding my situation and trying to be thankful for what i have,

Not what i have not.

Wrapped in a bubble, trying hard to not cause trouble, doubled up in a vacuum, just another room strewn with memories and advise.

From Adidas to Anne Rice I splice together weather as i sever strings tethers and release without cease.

To be found on weak knees in the tops of trees, shaking the sun and demanding release.

There’s a peace and quiet shortage but when it does arrive,

I crave it to be filled with company to bring me back to life.

Alive and still beating, repeating the same sad sonnet, I rattle like an aftershock and then make myself *****.

When it’s gone it leaves not a single trace, just words and sounds all giving chase to pace the penances purpose.

I’m typing and juddering, silence makes me feel nervous, it’s not even like i rehearse this or deserve rest,

I test the time uttering stuttering statements nervous and trying to digest.