Social proof

 Last one up, I'm inflamed
lying on the bed
kinda green with envy turning blue 
reading Light in August 
making this room a seminary
but your indifference disfigures me
Baby, it's cold in California
one of those nights when I'm fighting with my sheets
Spinning records is my refuge,
getting up and moving about,
after four minutes and nine seconds of paralysis 
How I love a good song to disappear into
too many stories of you around here
So, I continue to brood and pass it off as reflection 
One day, I'll learn to stop saying things that make me weak
to stop this crossword-speak
I hide these solemn words like Hemingway skeletons
ones that leave me waiting for validation
sometimes I think I want to be unhappy 

Fell the last passenger 2020