I’m having a lot of coffee. From the moment I wake up. Bottomless cup on the glass table. I sleep well, I wake up fine, I want to wire up and dress down and drink something that’ll touch me months later.
Curling up into a ball of anxious spaghetti mess.
Jittery teeth, nerves raw, do not caffeine like some compensate overtly.
I’m tired of making sense.
So many lies.
Peel off all the layers off.
I want to be there. And make it work, this noggen.
My one knee is a man and my elbow fancies itself to be a woman.