arranged as you are verdant and sleeping hard rain shimmering like veins under the skin my metaphors are all mixed up these days
I have this scar I can’t get rid of you said on that long drive home I wanted to say something you might find comforting but I know how these things work you only make it worse when you think words can dispel something like this
and the avalanche of aching where do you put that? in the palm of my hands I hear myself saying
the lights of the houses in the field seem like some kind of cruel heaven and we out here on the road so lost, so far from home.
I’ve got this problem where I really want to travel and take cool exotic jobs and move from place to place but I’m also dying to have my own little house where I can have chickens and a garden and fruit trees and enjoy domestic bliss