first storm in summer
lightning nine miles over
the door's half off its hinges
I doubt the landlords will fix it, though they could.
there is nothing i'd rather do than wake up in your room.
if you have a headache we can leave the lights off all day and all night.
but for now I wake up
all twisted in sofa
throw alyssa's stream up
be parasocial, say good morning lotad
I'm sick of all my dreams being formerly normal things
if god ever lets me back, I swear I'll do so much better.
I am praying for a storm. rip off the goshdarn door
with an endless gust of wind and ceaseless stream of texts sent and saying:
I'm here. here. here.