dreams to house the unspoken

 it's august hot melting

all my plans for this covacayid

wasps bounce against the screens, inside.

a crow flies before the heavy clouds

that may rain down on us, may not.

i've been watching fb live. they got some

stars on there, just talking about their lives.

spittin like they on stage. what a quaint 

li'l thing i am, bless my heart, still 

writing it down as if reading were a thing.

still, that last letter freed me 

even though there's no way in hell 

it will be sent. i read it outloud

to the breeze. i hope it finds its way home

without me.

the crow calls behind me

i face east, begging.

this loss of purpose, this not 

having to work leads to not

doing anything, though the kitchen

in cleaned. the floor is unmopped

and i wonder how much a hell hole this 

home really is. i'm comfortable in it,

crumbling tiles, cat scratched walls.

the leaking bathtub disemboweled

awaiting a promise's fulfillment.

i don't know how much hope

i've fed to the gods, but it's almost

over now. settled in. complacently

awaiting the next shitshow to be served

hoping i don't have to care.