a year thought over

january.

it's that moment when you wake
up and
realize today is almost
like yesterday, only minor differences
are significant in change
and it seems like yesterday but colder.

february.

i spent the day wearing grey and
i stuck out like a rain cloud
on a
sunny day, like a great white lonely
whale who spends all his
time pretending he
isn't alone.

march.

there's not an inch of progress towards
any form of exit strategy, so the only
way
out still seems to be
what you thought to
be sleep.

till naptime do us part.

april.

if i took every day and
counted them, i'd feel more
miserable and all i'd
ask is for you
to turn off the lights and
hold me tight.

may.

and may your roads run
in circles that confuse
and distract you, i'd
hope you soon get lost
so you can't find your way home.

june.

if home is where the
heart is, then i want my
heart to be
air-conditioned.

july.

but my blizzard fueled veins are
weak with the heat of comfort, the
heat of feeling not so alone
for once,
this
is
odd.

august.

we'll sing praises to former
kings and leaders who
led us into oblivion, which
we
perceived as peace.

september.

now my skin turns to a deeper
shade of my favorite colors, my
arms feel heavy and i'm sleeping more.

october.

you think disguises make you
someone else, you only fake being
real because it
makes you comfortable and well-liked.

november.

i'm bored of everyone else and
there's no adventure left
here, i'm making plans and
packing bags.

december.

it's snowing at home but it's
raining here, i left home six
years ago and every year
since.

now i feel home whenever i'm alone.
now i spend my weekends in places i
shouldn't be, going too fast and breaking
the rules my
mother raised me on.