naked thoughts

scribble scratch, i see your face, i am trying. and you know, maybe it’s the consistent heaviness of two a.m. that’s always humming in my head, always romanticizing everything from the grass to the fucking drywall…but i’m okay with that. i might be. i don’t know why i feel so goddamn much in all directions. this air punctures me. small moments, you know? i am stressing all of my syllables, always strung out on play-pretend, human euphoria…i love you, stranger. and i don’t know. i don’t know a lot of things, why i buzz this way