❝I have a loneliness that is tangible,
but it is not a loneliness.
It is a rock, and it is me, and it is being too tired to shower.
I say I am sad, because that word is short and my mouth is weary,
because everything is weary,
I am sad (see).
I am not sad.
Sad feels different, transmutable.
This not a burning house, but a house already burnt.
It is not the fire but standing in the ashes after,
sifting through the soot for pictures of the people
you thought loved you the most.
I am tired, but it is not a tiredness.
It is a pair of hands pulling me through the ground,