" I knew it used to be your favorite shiny thing but you lost it in between
moves, had your mind on the cold and how you had no electricity and an
expired license and another pregnancy which your boyfriend giggled about
like embarrassed, like it was a cum stain on a friend's mattress.
I know this used to be your favorite bus stop, you used to tell the
dog who rummaged through the garbage cans you'd never be like them,
and every stab they aimed at what you loved or believed in only
reinforced what you told the mongrel as you tossed him the leftover
croissants from work and wrote long letters, hoping you wouldn't get
raped, like the bus driver said.
But shiny things make everything so heavy, and there aren't enough
boxes or pockets and after all they're only rocks or marbles anyway, and
love is sex, love is accomplishment and mental health, and nobody stabs,
you can't see the difference between defense and offense, and Jesus,
you're always so tired these days, you're almost old."
via Anna Joy via COMETBUS