he says these days
i don't even really want to be here
i'm reaching the point where i think i might flee dear
seems i might be
having trouble telling friend from a fiend
please don't tell me
everything happens for a reason
with the air still hanging so heavy with treason
seems like maybe your ideology is
open season on me
so now
i'll speak
so loud
i'll be allowed
she said these days i don't even really want to be here
those cretins cut down our wedding tree dear
flinging pieces
of little tiny existential debris
waking, dreaming
biting my tongue til it's bleeding
its freezing
its two hundred degrees
discretely keeping our shady history
under lock and key