Jadzia Dax,

I ran out of words that mean things I don't know if it's sadness or love or if these things are one in the same

I thought Tundra I thought about the Eagle Huntress I thought about digging for gold eggs

or maybe I mean burying? either way I exist in a kind of twisted limbo

immobilized by something stranger even than myself

I watch movies and wonder Will this matter in 20 years? Will I, to anyone?

Fuck ofd, write yor own damn speech

The Tomcat Murr drifting theough leaflets Like they might actually mean something

But they never do The only real light you can depend on is from Your cat

The way she keeps forgiving you for spilling her water and not changing the litter fast enough

I had 2 lemons in the fridge when i left They weren’t Meyer lemons Their scent sealed in wax

Were they only for painting? what does the world see What do i see that is different

An alien, avian, a bit of a high-flyer I wonder if Hank has a little somewhere I am my own

i miss the grass and insects especially i wonder what is happening with my RNA, am I a Henrietta somehow?

really we just all lie awake alone with our free cable and clean sheets and sushi dinners waiting for free coffee

the chance to emerge from our prisons or escape rooms sense at least the presence of another

somehow make these single-serving rooms into a semblance of a home we add our scent to the collective

the last time i lived in a hotel i had divorced this time somehow i inch towards Bethlehem

with cat and bell and backpack