Every day is not like the other one.
I see ghosts in my shoes, and what else do I see...
I see a tree outside of my window, it is waving at me.
My roommate is sleeping in her bed. I don't remember
what I said. I'm waiting for him to come home
and tuck me in to bed. She sits beside me,
and waits, as if she would not leave. I know she is about
to grieve. The wild, wild wind is moaning.
Everything is complex to me. I still see the tree.
The dog is barking outside. The night has come alive.
I whisper to her, and she whispers back that the horses
are still dead. They died while climbing rocket science.
It's not the same thing as being an astronaut, it's more complex
than that. I don't know where it's at. My age is just a number.
I sit by the stream. Everything is plentiful, and so is the
I watch tv, hoping for meditation. I go in my backyard,
and swing on the swing. It makes a slight whooshing sound
in my ear. The world begins to fear. We build a giant door,
and the cat swings and sings outward, going upward.
I wish it was me.
The cat comes back again, banging on the window, and
I don't know what to tell him. He tells me goodbye. I can't
Everyone stares at me like a sweet, staring thing. It gets in my
eyes, and makes my heart beat rapidly like a cardio workout.
I don't like getting up in the morning. My back hurts,
and so do my shoulders. I hate tv.