I function in a haze, or malfunction, is this simply existing?
When days run into nights and nights stumble down rusted rails
Is this what you call quarantine
At 2 a.m. cars burn outside my window, but who is touching the wheel.
The silence breaks, shatters on the kitchen tile
I function in the darkness
Light mocks and taunts, light baits the weakness
I accomplish nothing, it’s all empty
The stainless steel is scratched
The walls are stained
A timid paintchip squanders its shame
Crumbs cowardly snuggle in crevices and seams
I function, or malfunction in the chaos.
Purple foil from dark chocolate whispers from under the couch
How long has it been there
Is it also Quarantined
Blurry screens, webbed thoughts
Find a minute, lose an idea
Please dim the mayhem
Nights are restless
Dreams aren’t dreams
Dreams are regrets, insecurities, manifestations of tachycardia
Daylight and dusk are masked with relief.
A cruel mirage
An elementary school recorder reminds me to cry
The broken nail and broken promise to eat a fruit invokes guilt
It’s been too long, never misses an opportunity
I function in a narrative
I’m building fiction
A broken and corrupted string
Empty parking lots,
tumbleweeds knotted in grief
I function for them
