I eat mistakes
like guilty pleasures by the cornered
illumination of dawning kitchens;
tiptoeing while birds
keep their heads inside wings.
Sometimes walls hear
the chewing of crunchy lies
in the pantryís backlight
and the sun rises with
the morning breath of broken promises.
Iíve learned to digest in the dark,
to avoid puking mid-sleep,
to count the words I failed to keep
in my head when laying it
on shame isnít enough. So
I embrace nightmares by becoming one
and daydream that someone
is happy to be dreaming of me.
in breakfasts of regret,
Iím one day older
and still growing sidewards.
Change nothing, this was great.
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