I'm alright.

I need a healthy dose of something...
I don't know what.
As long as it's healthy.

My room looks like a battle just died out.
Now I have to bury the remains
under my bed, in closets and drawers.

My cat is sulking around the house:
I haven't snuggled her enough.
It's been a few months of casual walk-by pettings.

I forget how to write songs.
All that leaks out are cheap little poems
and rodeo-active pop.

I've taken to eavesdropping,
I don't like to start conversations anymore.
I just join in on existent thoughts.


I'm alright. I'm alright.