written By
when the days begin to bleed into the same day
the formless grey of undifferentiated ticktocks
zigzagging around potholes of open mouths
when the nights swallow all of that regurgitating it
as a sour puddle of circularity onto the platform
of unconsciousness marked only by the music of the undefined
when the last train came through i missed it
i was in the bathroom trying to zip up my sanity
that shrank in the dryer because i forgot to set it on low
when you have no words to describe what you’re not feeling
the day bleeds into the same day as you drown in the puddle of music
wait…i lied…i have the title
