Days bunch up in weeks, collaborate months against me. The sheets are stained with evidence that our remains are now, drifting away. I share with complete strangers my most personal of pleasures. I scribble tidbits of useless mind info- trash, treasure. Spend hours, at my leisure, like sharpened precise tweezers. Shifting through in the frame by frame I walk the same path I'll say the same lines I do this every time Do this every time Dodging armpit stench aromatic Wrapped up in my own self-induced stress panic I think i am the only one in this shifting through They'll collaborate in months against me.