Nocturnally, I am at my best.
Come daylight, I am a sleeper shadow,
Meandering through halls unnecessary.
I don't know what to do with all this time.
I make origami. I melt crayons.
I try on my brother's ear not for his sake,
But for mine.
I don't pretend to be a poet.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't pretend.
I wish I could be more like you.
Fiction, poetry, and all that good stuff . . .