And I spend—
swindling with my fingers,
time, that I never really wanted.
And I spend—
listening to music,
time, that I never really wanted.
And I spend—
so, so much time,
killing myself
Someone, I never really wanted.
YOU ARE READING
h a i m i s h
Poetry. . . haimish; moon talks, and alleyed pyols. . . . homes a collection of snippets from the times I feel most at home. prose/poetry
