Swinging It 'cuz I ain't Winging It

sun. apr 27 '25 

i am blessed by the patron saint of indifference. 

i am hardly home when i crack my head on my pillowcase and out rolls my heart. i hit the brakes on honesty and shut my eyes and hope for the best. the engine stutters as it rolls over my body. 

the house i grew up in is a hotel now. i sleep in just to sleep out. i'm all rolled up in your carpets and i can't find my way out. 

so now cast my shoes, and set me under. 

air bubbles escape when I don't.