In Cody Pomeray's Room
I wanted to play but wanted to watch more. Swatched in blue light and old music and a pilled blanket that wasn't mine. That island would look differently if I was in charge. I would not elect this. Responsible for spires upon spires of invisible real estate.
The stomach tightens and sinks.
The heart and lungs follow.
It’s a confounding reaction to a receipt of affection.
It’s familiar, and, therefore, oddly comforting.
But familiarity can be a curse.
A cursed reminder of what once went wrong when you were just trying to do things right this time.
This time it’ll be different, you say.
Why? You’re different, but what are you doing differently?