i am so cold
sat on my window
night before halloween
i’ve never much liked dressing up
and last years thriller jacket
is difficult to beat
a work email has just
graced me with its presence
after being off for a week
reality always
taps my shoulder
“hello, you. remember me?”
last night, a
particularly muscular spider
crawled in through this window
and i had it
half covered with a cup
before it slid down
the side of my bed
i keep trying to
hold things
that slip between fingers
i keep trying
to write the perfect poem
only for the pen
to stop working
i keep trying
to do something good
and then deliberately
make the wrong choice
but i am still
at this window
even though the
spiders are close
i am looking at the same view
i’ve known for eleven years
soon it’ll be
mum’s house
not home
in some ways
i have not changed
still nervously prodding
the page
the roots of my hair
the spiders
the mirror
wishing it were clearer
i have almost
made it through
another year
i am still cold
i still think a thriller zombie
is the best ill ever look
but when i gently
thumb through the book
that has my entire life inside
there is nothing
i want more
than the thrill
of being alive.
8:01pm - 30/10/26 - window