It’s just an echo
There’s no turn-down button
But the volume does go up on its own
There’s blood on those hands
And I’ve never heard of that drink
It’s heavy and lethargic
The weight of that 18 years is medically diagnosed-
As never going away
“In fact it will affect you more as you age”
I was trying to wear these boots but they’re too big and
I’m not
Your framed little picture on the top of the fireplace
I drive down those long back roads
Down by the river and
I Shake
I cringe
So empty back here
There’s no way to clean your hands
You already got them dirty
I won’t pretty it up and I won’t nod my head
I used to play Barbies,
Make mudpies and heat them up on the rusted tracks
It’s all so blurry
And I’m in no rush to figure it out
Since it only gets worse as you age