sometimes, i have nothing to say. and then it comes out like this. all kinds of nonsense language about the detritus that is laundry and bills-paid and schedules. as if those things aren't important. but they aren't this. all these vowel sounds and penny drops that get stuck in my head like the sounds of rain at night. when it plunks and swells. floods the basement and leaves everyone dumbstruck and longing for higher ground. for someone to soak up all the bullshit.

sometimes, really. it comes out like this. and still. there is just nothing. nothing but the aftermath of things i've already said. about blood and guts and nightmares and. yawn. and i am left longing for the dumbstruck. the longing. the things better left unsaid.

i'm just trying to write myself back into writing. and that's okay. that's enough. to figure out. for now.


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