late again

ah. hello

keyboard. website. white page. words.

this is another lie

it’s september.

I’m not sure what to do right now.

I got you back more than a handful of weeks ago, but I didn’t open you. still, unopened

you remained. stayed, immortal internet account

didn’t move, I didn’t move either

not easily discarded, not physical, not lost, not here

default alive. unlike me, I think. but

I’m here now.

I’m not sure what to do.

lots of words saved up from these months, but not enough.

feeling commited to the chronological timeline

do I break it again? how many times can you snap a thread and keep going

if I do it’s a bad calendar (missing days, missing months) if I don’t

it’s a bad diary (half of the dates aren’t real)

this wasn’t meant for anyone,

just me,

I still don’t know what to do with it

it’s still here

I still don’t know what to do with it

I have these ideas

of waiting until the sun changes and

just running, running

out the door and down the street

running, running down the

avenues and knowing where

to turn, up the hills and

down the blocks running, running

until I reached your door

I’d wait for you, if I thought

I had the strangest dream last night,

I found someone, like me, we

talked. we talked. we

talked. and when he breathed, I

is there a smell to sadness?

there’s one to this, of

unwashed sheets, stale and

stiff, skin staining the surface

of a matress, hours baked

it’s spring now, so when it rains

lead me outside

to where the dirt isn’t dry

bury me in the mud

where the grass can grow

you’ll see me again when the

months grow cold

I’ll see you again, before

there’s not a lot to do,