A Description of Lonesomeness
In the dark I fear my imaginary sister. There are dimly
lit hallways, alleyways, water pooling
across the carpet. A rug of blood. In the dark I fear
strange sparrows, in the darkness. Throughout my life I have done
my best to sleep away time. Its peculiar passageways,
its drifting through the world. I have swallowed
so much milk, warm and tainted down my throat. It’s no accident
that I am myself again, wailing all over a long
bedroom. I draft all of my mistakes into a document.
Wait for you, or whoever you are, until I can wait no more.