There I was

Lower legs wrapped up in a pillowcase

Not quite broken body tensing against a carpeted floor

It was the hundredth night I'd decided sleeping in comfort wasn't worth my dignity

The bed, stained with filth

And here, aching bones rubbing uncomfortably within the skin

I couldn't help thinking that I should just lay on the bed

That this wasn't worth the pain in the morning

Nobody would know except me

These are the moments that kill a person.

Listening to music of my beautiful home state

How lucky I am to be from California,

Even if I'm not there

It's an eternal source of comfort

A renewable one, given all the content dedicated to its beauty

Laying in the closet, not quite broken body

resting carefully against hard floor

I say a short prayer of only half-faith

Asking for California to get better soon

God knows they need it more than I do

And still, selfish as always,

I add that I hope they'll take me as I am,

That I'll return to the beauty, that the past was

not so selfish as to ruin it entirely

Here I am, in pain, laying against a hard floor

cold seeping through the bones

But California is the name of hope

The idea that I could one day be warm, comfortable

California or not

it- escape- is divinity

But for now I cannot possibly imagine

warmth and comfort and a lack of pain

So I just imagine that I'm in an overpriced studio in California

Not at all here,

and tomorrow I'll walk outside,

into the not quite broken state,

and I'll belong.