I wonder if that small mint green Mazda AZ wagon holds all the screams that tore out of my throat over those two years

If I’m running out of guts to spill in an age of tenderness and rage

I’ve been taking sinfully long sleeps. I’ve yipped in dreams and woken myself in the witching hour

I’m soon leaving the corner castle of glass and steel— the unexpected bastion during my twenties

The palace of white leather and liquid empathy