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Spring Chicken

Ill Lit


and you keep prancing
‘round the house
breaking the glasses
and the dishes.
it’s the lonely occupation
of someone else’s wishes.
the position i’ll be taking
is the one i never left.
there’s a breath i’d like
to focus on as though
i learned to catch.
there’s feeling entitled
and there’s being denied,
and there’s a tiny january
in your hot august nights;
it could be friends you keep making
in the warmth of fun and sun,
it could be misunderstandings
or do you miss someone?
it’s all i know,
how to miss someone.
that’s how it goes.
i had to bury my
sweet grandmother r.,
and you just don’t know
how you’re gonna lose control.
i think you’re coming
off the wall
before too long; coming
off the wall
it took too long.
and these people
you’re surrounded by
are half completed thoughts,
lost in lights of driftlessness.
compassion was the cost.
will you need me here forever
or am i just about through
to wander through the wonder,
my head all full of doom?
you think directions are the thing
we should be asking
the dead you keep collecting
like callous, tempered plastic?
there’s feeling entitled
and there’s being denied,
and there’s a tiny january
and it’s your hot august nights.
let’s make amends
for mistaking that the worst
is yet to come from all these
misunderstandings.
when i miss someone,
it’s all i know,
how to miss someone.
it’s all i know,
how to miss someone.

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