So I lock the door and swallow the key.
On good days
I overflow hope, like pouring too much water into a glass, or like how
Light can stream in through holes in dusty ceilings.
My bones feel warm and I yawn.
On bad days
My bones just feel heavy.
The clock laughs at how much time I’ve wasted already and
The walls sigh and start to peel from all the salt in the air.
My brain is alive and
Being alive is messy.
The sun rises in the east and sets in the west.
And sometimes that’s all we need.