Hot luck for a hot second. Hit the top and then hit rock bottom, it’s dark and I can’t see these words but I know what they feel like. Know when I don’t feel right. Stepped halfway outta my body. Blurry eyes behind broken eyelids and rambling texts about the stupid things I did. Left you alone for a hot second and I’m sorry. Only know who I am when I’m staring into the depths of my coffee. But you gotta mix the chocolate in to get the taste just right, so the image doesn’t last for long. By the time the advertisement’s over she’s gone. Join two incompatible things together and you’ve got a poem. But only on paper. It only looks good on paper. Don’t feel good when I think about that paper I’m too young I fucking hate it. But I’ll go to sleep and forget it all, past selves remembered vaguely like snippets of a TV show left on in the background of your sleep. Convinced the truest parts of me are formed in my sleep. This form is not me. Can never really grasp what it means. Spend money on facemasks so you can feel good on the outside and forget about the rest. All I need is some fucking rest but I can’t sleep till I get this out. Need to run but my legs feel heavy. Making good progress in therapy. Good chats with dad in the Jeep Cherokee. And I’m just trying to be here instead of there.