I wake up on the floor.
The door is halfway opened using it’s frame as a bookend,
but my thoughts are illegible.
Carpet fiber skyscrapers.
Looking through my bedroom window.
Two cardboard boxes packed in slipshod.
The silent alarm clock.
The pages that i’ve ripped out.
I have nothing to steal.
Everything I own is broken.
Daylight’s winding down;
everything outside is soft.
I self-scold with a dry mouth upon waking up mechanically.