If I inhabit your space
And paste myself over the walls, like dust and glue,
Would you come home?
As I unravel the bandages,
That hold the most important parts together,
Could you please turn away?
I don’t want you to see this.
I don’t think anyone should see this.
The words can come like modern mantras,
Propelling me through the wasted day.
But they don’t consult with the actions.
Separate script and mime.
I am sorry.
Tell me it has all been worth the mess and it will stop.
I am sorry
That I couldn’t do it better than this.