at 11:11
the alarm reminds me to pet and
all week I've felt so serious about it
so certain that Sunday night was perfect
for me and my sister, this weekend
was rolling hills
a monument of them
and everyone has their own
to cry on but
they roll twisted
and tomorrow just
isn't always so
my mom reminds me
so here I am
I've tinkered with pt 2
I've cooked and
I've cried and
I need a tarot
reading tonight
or
sleep will escape me again and
the mysterious shittiness
of my body in limbo
will keep me up with all its
options
for escape routes
so many options each leaking from
a pore and my jaw
is locked
right where my cheek rings
like an ear aware
of the dead moon gone
a face tat nowhere another
ghost to add to the
list that rings and
stirs and shows up
with the exit signs
that I remember from
a past life feels like a
Sunday night
and I used to think
only some people died
and I wish on my alarm
for a seventh heaven phone chord
to be drawn permanently
between us and for the
ringing to just be you
