Can you sit with me and talk this through?
I'm not nomadic any more
The gladiators are juicing
Everything I thought I'd remember I've forgotten
Where are you now and now and now?
I hope the poison doesn't come back
Here is a concrete image to ground you
The concrete is beige and hard to the touch
Is it a problem?
I've mostly stopped dreaming
Am I simply more real now, more resigned to it?
Is that progress or regression
Is this why adults need to spend time with children?
I've grown so much more serious
In the green-green moss garden where water seeps from stones
There is a part of me that still wants to sleep under the stars
Do I remember what it feels like to be alive?
Is the feeling different now?
