Water falling into a fine mist before it hits the ground
The first time I fell asleep to a television
I was self-medicating for my fear of the dark.
Now I’m more interested in the voices than the light,
The unexplained aches and pains of getting older having begun:
Now I find humility in how bad Earth looks from the outside;
Kinesio tape is something I prefer to keep magical rather than learn about;
Would rather look saturated than nourish another and enjoy my own consumption.
The suggestion of church organ fuzz in the buses’ revs on my morning walks
Kneading away the desire to produce a well-written thing nobody can understand.
I meditate by breaking down boxes to podcasts in a cramped office now,
To quiet the ripples in my flavoured water tracing back
To copyright documents for the first Jurassic Park movie.
I usually box people between vitamins and kinesio tape,
It’s the molecular configuration of my personal raincloud,
Eroding me til all I really want
Is a newspaper dispenser I can rest my coffee on,
My cut of the sentimental appeal of certain pouty 90s sedans.
You are aware of my sense of wasting away.
Looking for what I want in what I don’t have.
Setting aside all the beliefs I hold because I was told to
Wasn’t as good a look for me as I had hoped.