it's all dirty fingernails and two sleeping pills every night.
weird dreams and groggy mornings.
i like this most of all,
because i'm writing for no one.
i'm writing for me and me and me and sometimes you, only not really.
thunder and golden days will come again.
something in the fabric of my soul tells me this.
"hold on darling, just a little while, just a little while longer."
i want to sing.