working and writing and listening to St. Vincent, of course,
because I have had a lot of coffee and I already have an addictive personality;
just painting the black hole blacker.
mondays are still mine to shine,
like a doorknob I am about to open
to a room I have never viewed.
desperation looks good on me,
because I have learned to wear it well
wherever I go.
what do I share?
what do I keep?
saving myself from what I want
one lover at a crime;
laughing with a mouth of blood
from a little spill I took.
I can't see the future,
but I know it has big plans for me.