wph

I walked home the long way because I knew the sky would not be angry at me.

The moon knew what it felt like to be so tired you couldn’t even think

Of going to bed.

On Sunday night, you can find me empty in my full room.

Head cocked, half leaning on the arm of my chair,

Listening to the mechanical birdsong of my alarm clock.

New starust slicks the shingles

On the ancient roof of the shed

Where a couple of souls lie to clean

Their greying teenage bodies.

The streetlight turns off at

Half past ten,

I see someone that I wish I looked like and I hope she is living a perfect life with the right body and doesn’t have to stay up as late as I do in order to feel things and doesn’t even know about me or what I do while I wait for things t

every time the

re is uncertain

ty in my life, i 

am extremely 

calm, because 

i know that w

hen it is resol

ved, i will feel h

appy or sad and 

either way, i will 

After dusk, we become paranoid. Our brains, primed for hyperactive pattern seeking by millennia of evolution, can't help but tell us that that noise downstairs was an intruder, or maybe even something worse...