quiddity

I've been writing

snippets of my sorrow

(which is transient and lamenting,

waiting for a place to nestle down

and spread like gremlins who are drowning)

as i listen to you chronicle The Day In The Life Of

and as much as i hate to admit it

i wish i weren't so sober

and i wish i weren't so clean

and i wish, really, that

this wasn't me.