I am not well-rounded, I
am angular with sharp edges
and flat surfaces

I stay up really late most nights,
and I love to sleep in
and drink coffee real slow
in the afternoons

I don’t go outside as often as I’d like,
’cause my fantasy worlds
distract me from the difficulty
of reality

I swear I’m trying to embrace
the beauty of each process,
but I tend to turn everything
into some kind of difficult

Please don’t

shove me in a round hole

When did I become
a dark cipher of myself?
I see the light reflected from my halo,
and it casts eerie shadows
that stretch like horns

In these dark days,
give me wings
and nest after flight with me