Untitled
Pieces remain in the broken glass
An imprint is left after it is erased
My family exists to me
only as something to protect
I see your name under paintings as I wander
the dark halls
Pushing my IV alongside me like a ghost
a strange tether
A restlessness i haven’t felt in years
Wandering is what i do
Searching for an escape
There is no escape from your own mind
though
Perhaps the footsteps are the tiniest
escape
The grippy socks they gifted me offer no
traction
No grip to this world
