Wake up and feel like i’ve left something somewhere
at the first noise i make i remember it makes it all go away
but there’s the aftertaste
though i’d rather get the whole fruit

it’s been around all day
the aftertaste, i mean
like a headache that won’t go away
like the hangnail that’s too short

a month and a half, soon
every day
tired of the heavy rain
pouring out in the yoga room

garnished in i-don’t-knows
i took a piece of bark in my pocket the other day
i water it daily

it has shape,
and it’s there
it’s all i need right now
but my pen’s running out again


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