with all my years'
ears to the music
that made me.
I sing Switzerland.
I sleep in a Phoebe Bridgers shirt.
My neighbors play hip-hop
and I ride along.
I look at your website
just to see your face
and I love that one tooth
that is crookedly beautiful.
Blink once if ya miss me.
I want to change my email address.
The saints cry rain
through stained glass windows.
Like the novel and the never,
I wonder if you think about me
with more than just a laugh.
Love and fear, like I do/did.
Living on a fence,
my art exists to recover
the sensation of life;
to feel things like stones.
Draw out the sensations
that things inspire;
don't just be pizza and fairytales,
because this estrangement doesn't come from nowhere.