I have forgotten how to live
I confess
how it is to pour a little sun on the skin
how it is to fold clothes hung dry
how do I clear my dead skin cells from the tiles
next to my bed
how do I function with a living space
I call home
my standards of comfort
responsibility
are to be instilled by the influence of the sorts of which
who tells you
to shut the cover of detergent tight after you finish
who tells you to pick up trash that you have created
how does logic function within me
what draws a line of your discipline, claimed sense of righteousness
and a vision that I've blurred
I see circles
I spin
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