Monday

The saddest thing is that once I had
a perfect shirt
and it got sucked out the window of a tour van
as we left Cleveland Ohio.
But the baby will wake up soon, and that feels sad too.
And so does Jeff Mangum's perfect face & voice.
Even his perfect hair.
I tried to conjure feelings about memories by trying to remember how I felt
and then I looked at pictures of the past to reread them with new information;
to prove to myself that either, these feelings weren't true then,
or they were.
It didn't work.
Because they can remind me of nothing but that perfect shirt
and the hair I hated but now think is pretty.
They give me no new information except
that there is no new information to get.

There are so many nice things to say,
but it's not even worth saying them because
now I don't have a future.
I never thought it would come to this ever.
My eyes look puffy from crying and little sleep and I think
"I will be unattractive very soon."
It instills a sense of panic and an urgency
to bind someone to me;
someone who doesn't look too close at my face.