every day the drywall grows in size and in impact,
reminding me of rooms that i haven't
lived
within,
like a candle swimming in the salt and
band-aids.
sleep,
ephemeral heat is
a dream where
the inside of my eyelids are not monsters,
where paint brushes bring color to garages,
where i don't drink until numbness,
and where your hands continue to guide my skull
from the ground into the clouds.
you all told me i had a place here but
why have you all left?
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
every day the drywall grows in size and in impact,
reminding me of rooms that i haven't
lived
within,
like a candle swimming in the salt and
band-aids.
sleep,
ephemeral heat is
a dream where
the inside of my eyelids are not monsters,
where paint brushes bring color to garages,
where i don't drink until numbness,
and where your hands continue to guide my skull
from the ground into the clouds.
you all told me i had a place here but
why have you all left?
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