disconnection grows in empty rooms.
is it foggy?
damp floors, these chandeliers are tumours
the airs too heavy i
theres an echo in the centre, your heart
so dark now
and im standing with the window open
something is burning
put a cigarette out when the smoke hits your eye
why would you wait for it to hurt
the doors are closed with veins on the handles
could just fall asleep
and the house rots and the room collapses
and its still the same
and there is nothing left

YOU ARE READING
how to not die alone(on hold)
Poetryin this act i attempt to write ¿poems? i think,