There’s no smile to fake
No branded pill I can hourly take
It is what it is, like the death of a star
The empty tank in a travelling car
Time, they say, it takes a lot
Gobbling moments, losing the plot
Fuck this
Fuck that
Wipe your feet on the welcome mat
Home? A place to dry these bones
To close the curtains and turn off my phone
My nails are bitten
The poems are written
What more can I do
But wait.
Crumbs in my belly button 