overdoing it in the bathroom

Aloneness does not turn

a person into a community.

 

Oh, treble clef, getting me down.

 

I am standing here holding my tongue.

Your inhale is the burn in my lungs.

 

Fun stuff, a little bit sad, but fun stuff.

 

I ache for an invisible person

to see me back.

 

I guess artists and everyone can’t live forever, or it would be meaningless.

 

Dizzy and tiles.

Echoes and hands.