falling asleep to the tune
of amy singing to me
that i will wake up alone.
the trash is piling up,
and there is no more room in the sink.
i have not left this spot,
on my bed.
i cannot lift this weight over my head.

sometimes i see a flash of a memory
when i am riding on the 8PM train.
i nod off,
smile at a stranger
give up my seat and pretend like these people
need me.

i fall asleep on the couch,
there are crumbs piling up
on the floors of my house.
i can not get out.
i can’t
get
out.

Cleverly-crafted crumbs created
Are fabulously fantastic when framed for framing's function,
But accurately articulated actions
Are better for freeing feeling's function.

Now I can see your
Creative crumbs are cause for chaos.
The creator capturing caring compassionates
With each wilful, worthless word.