what can i set in motion
going to the places
i know there is more
of me
instead of less?

a year ago, last
|this place|
humid august
i met the
squirrel queen
and now,
now...

so much is changed
so much is black charcoal
under my pretty flip flop

so much is
my pen in my hand
instead of the blood in my veins

(the way it has to be)