Plans
The patience!
The nothing feeling!
The exasperation!
Like a rolled up sleeve that’s wet over nothing.
Anyway…
Like the small tug of air,
Depression with a side of salad, and worse.
Plans that seem coordinated.
But no, they have charisma, they have hopefulness.
Wander off like they do.
They are patient with me.
I don’t live far from the moon at all.
Just don’t have a plan…
To breathe in the dark matter
Plans waste away in squalor.
Alive.
I was once like a side salad.
Got eaten a little bit.
Then really died that day.
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