What is making me most sad is that this will never not have happened,
The spring light mocking me
Walking aimless in the dark.
The melodrama should be comforting, but it's facing the fate of the warmth of the day, a facade I'm already past.

I glance at my watch for a fraction of the time I know it will take me to glean the answer I pretend to be looking for so often in the flick of my wrist.
This is one of my secret deficiencies:
It's nothing o'clock, as always.

I could spit fire but instead I just spit.
"Did you write another poem in Texas? I was hoping you would"
empty as the light, as time

I watch my hands shake, thumbs poised above these slick, imagined keys, and envy them in their capacity to act, even so tentatively.
The longer I wait the less time elapses,
another pair of hands ticking another nothing feeling, another never wanting, another push apart.

My phone is blowing up and I wish it really would, pissing away what's left of the light, of the time I thought I had to unpack but instead am finding's filled with crunchy air and paper, plastic pillows concealing what scraps of meaning I'm digging for, like ordering stamps on amazon prime.

Forever stamps the threat of memory.
It turns out I don't want this moment to end because there will just be another one, preferring the guarantee of numbness to the looming question of what I'm supposed to think or feel next.

No, I didn't write a poem in Texas because Texas never did anything to me, and for that I'm grateful,
autocorrected from gratefuk, which I hope it was, truly, if it's doing so much to me now.

Sex is such transgression, it's amazing how much we love it, and how much it does and doesn't do. I can't remember the last time I really enjoyed that mutual violation, honestly, which is almost comforting except in how badly each time I want to feel at least one side of that pain and pleasure coin. I guess at jealousy. I want to get lost and hit a little by a car, just a matching tattoo scratch on my fleshy body, bound forever to its hulking metal.

I'm embarrassed to be in this position, and that's something, so thanks.
But I want desperately for real judgement to come, to seal something so I can feel its weight. I want to be ready to cast my ballot. It's perfect voting weather.
I wish it were November, I'd vote forever.