sitting stones

"and i know you can't do it all,
but you can't say im not tryin'."


my disappointment overflows while my imagination takes hold, i hate how i am.
i have no bridge to cross or burn- im underneath it all, speaking through my shattered teeth.
how do i, how do i, how do i?
my stability seeps through the floor as if it was never there at all, as if nothing was there at all-
almost like my connections lost touch and sleeping is nothing to me.
my connections are lost to my thoughts and so they are lost with my writing which is why this breathes of no soul. goodbye.

i just wish the flowers could be enough, i wish flowers were enough for me.
i wish i could glow and beam with happiness at any other glimpse of light, but i cant and im pitiful- but only of myself.