#aug 12

Another day, another Zeta party.

this warm twin bed, a single candle blowing out. 

commune with the air, they said,

let the breath give you worth again. but

really, i’m somewhere i haven't yet seen, held. 

i’ve begged before. i always end up on my knees

seeing dust as rain, asking why i’m choking.

i should have been replenished.

but these unworkable hands, the way

i bleed out for monotony. the dull ache

that comes with being hungry.

the written word is never enough when

my sisters are laughing, bringing half the grocery