Done with deposits today;
I’m lending myself to anger.
Over who I am in my skin
That grows, but never amounts,
Flows, but never arrives,
Like this river that I’m mopping.
I’m peeling my eyelids open,
Long after I shut the porch light off,
To avoid being more alone,
But, the weights from above
Are heavy like the acoustics,
Of my favorite slow-sad raps,
I listen to when you ignore me.
So, I’m wishing I was exploring
Someone new who\'s trapped
In the same rhythm, too,
Who can indulge in sadness
As we try to mop up the river.`