Think we can watch short circuit in the afterlife?
Or hide a pile of blankets in the leaves
foreshadowing a fall or greater sacrifice
That stuffs it’s mouth with snocaps and hums a tune

This movie won’t reveal it’s title til the ending
Credits scattered throughout just obscures the film
held my breath last night and had a friendly conversation
reminded me I’m not the type of person that’s worth saving

Oh well
Farewell
I know you’re leaving
And I’ll be
Right here
Slouching
For months and seasons
Each one
Meaning something different
Though I cannot
For the life of me
Pronounce the mission

I’ll tune my radio depending on your frequency
-and speak your words to strangers without pleasantries
placed inside the kiln
And paint myself in heated strokes
With winter window film
The mystery is safe within

What will I be if I can just uncork
And redirect?
Or motivate the stiffness to be loosened
Into drying sand
I write to you and though it’s hidden means no disrespect
-this gesture from myself to you beneath the land
I Never wanted summer to end
And all the hot rains smell like crayons
Get the first bird fed
I’m a shoulder that’s been cried on
Eroded until times gone
Now it just feels like it’s time for bed

I vow to dream of you and misinterpret meaning
A congregation with its flock that’s missing limbs
-We’re both dragging ourselves towards nothing
somehow understand it’s only us that’s really him
I try to nourish you/ force a habit down
my hands that don’t know better
Seeking praise or something else
shelves are lined with plates you bought and hid beneath your bed
Along with coins you never spent but saved them all since I was twelve
I scratch while writing all the same songs and paper thin emotions
-forming to a painted mask
I wear the mask when I’m alone and paint the cabinets to look the same they’ve always looked
A looping comfort needed task
Please don't try this at home
they'll see the bloated swollen rotted wood that you've been calling your throne
and all the papers you've saved and your face that needs shaved
and in the morning they can tell you've been dissolving alone
I see the window from the garden like it's 88
spent the summer digging in your heart like it was made from clay
camping in the valley under skies that never darkened gray
a film like trading places but the title screen will just say-