I’ve always been a bad first impressionist

a misfit of conversation

tossing mayhem over my back shoulder

spinning out of control until my feet find some place to land

maybe the ground if i’m lucky 

I take deep interest in the directions of the moon

and the reason people breathe heavily

I wonder about hair styles and decisions

never really my own

I’d like to ask every person I see if their morning was nice

or if they stood fighting the mirror until they collapsed to the ground

We’re all just houses with for sale signs on them,

freshly painted, new fences and cobblestone driveways

No one has the knowledge of the wars that have been fought inside 

Tidying up our exteriors so no one knows our floorboards have been torn down