In every aspect of my consciousness I can not find anything but peaceful white noise until I think of your laugh until I think of your eyes until I think of your memory and the clutter of my consciousness slams into me crash into me crash into me donβt say I am good when all I feel is pain it is not enough to say, I am better but it is enough to leave to prove that I am right, that I am less than them you look at me like a vagabond utilizing a map confused and careless