I wake up past noon,
limbs anchored to...

it feels impossible
to do more than this...

This is not a dystopia
or some cataclysmic dream...

it's been years since i've stayed up
all night; trust me, this isn't my choosing...

She's still in a dream-like trance,
after all these years. Trauma is a...

I've been inviting you in
far too often...

Smoky pine, cedar, and cloves
haunt the grove close to home...

I play "Gymnopédie No. 1" to a home
busy with ghosts and painted apathy...

exhausted with the expectations
leave me barefoot in heavy snow...

I tried all the sweetest things,
gardenias bloomed from...

I tried to outsmart them,
contorting my limbs...

She visits today,
amidst clouds and clutter...