What is it about returning, when you never felt like you left?
This Monday is grey, and I only want candy.
Backwards feels just right, but backwards means forward inside my head.
There is no going back, but the days don’t feel like letting me go. Is it me holding on? Or, are those hours grabbing on?
Feet craving motion where the head used to sit still, but all while moving.
The home has expanded, and these walls have turned into a grave.
Minute, constricting, crashing in…
Where is the next stop?