and i say, i will never write anything
beautiful. my mouth is full of emptiness and words
chalky-dry with flatness, the little ghosts of
syllables and letters, flitting before my eyes.
sentences cascade from my fingertips and
there's nothing here but hollowness
shallowness
disguised as something true, as something real.

please just know that i'm always lying; always remember
that i never tell the truth. i'm floating thoughtless beyond
the stars, windows shut and eyes wide open
sleeping
dreaming
for something more.