the strings are rusty again
the strings are rusty again
but I found a remedy
in unhappiness
and I’m clear to go I’ve got the green light
but I’m already past it
I’ve already passed this on
to the ghosts you call your emotion
they feel—you don’t
and won’t ever
if happiness lies in a cup
the condensation rubs off
as pain
such a goddamn profound pain
why do I prefer airplane air?
recycled and stale
and why are you still there?
is that the worst you can do?
you killed your conscience
didn’t you
now I’m alone
and the black, encompassing
breaks my will, and
encourages nothing
but the gravel
to hold still
