I lit a cigarette while I was alone
The taste had no measure
If I file my nails I feel as though
It’s worthy of notice
I try to walk as quietly as I can
My shoes piled without logic
Splinters line my feet
Perhaps somebody else knows this feeling
It’s complicated
When the doorbell goes
Behind the sofa is a mound of fucking dust
I should clean
Temperature is objective
Yet I still sweat into my sheets
I’ve covered all the mirrors as a final
Twitch of being