¼

twisted knots in the wood beneath my feet
unreliable light fixtures rolling right over my esophagus
my brow is knitting a sweater and im simply tired

not so simply.
i feel homesick and that feels dangerous.

this feeling of being tired of not trying but too tired to try.
it's scooping out my insides and making an ornamental dish out of my ambitions.
i'm not even edible anymore.