Maybe my family remembers,
but who can withstand the gloom?
So I find myself alone again
in this familiar padded room
Double portions at breakfast
Served in styrofoam with
cold, unsweetened tea..

There's nothing on the TV
so I write poems on the wall
And if it falls apart, the chemicals
might help to embrace the fall,
but I guess I'd rather spiral
if falling feels a little more like me..

At night, my thoughts are racing
Shady deals, extinguished flames,
and times spent under streetlights
playing codependent games
I'm a slave to what's familiar..
though nothing seems to
ever stay the same.

I know what they're going to say
I know what they want to hear
I know the tone of their frustration
After 5 or 6 times this year
and for me it's all familiar,
but most these people barely
know my name.