Goldenrose

There's a point you can't look for that means you wait; homework tucked away, lips chapped yet somehow unbleeding, socks on in bed the way you never have before.

Long live the dead we prop ourselves up on, 

The cane we pass off as our leg. 

Long live the gods that money trickles down from, 

• I have not even met all of me left
• The ocean understands a part of me I always keep hidden
• I will always escape to nature and never you
• I keep trying to tell you it's been a while since I've been me
• The less I

My head cold waits at my bedroom windowsill 

Tells me: 

‘No, you can’t do your homework. Lie back down and quit thinking so much.’ 

Tells me: