"you have children everytime you go to the bathroom"

i write and write and write with broken claws to find some sort of meaning in the days they are slowly but surely definitely i mean i believe that they are passing no longer weeping, attached to nothing but myself and my body and my tired eyes they still seem so vibrant limbs are threaded in warmth of comfort happiness lovage nothing else maybe the smell of gasoline is reminiscent of car trips with my father when he was that person you would never expect to leave cups on top i think it's good to keep going and not stay in place i am content in making my fingertips into tiny composers writing the notes