Numbing the senses
The feeling of getting up and tired
So many boxes and memories
Look out the window to listen to the noise
A motorbike and neighbours gossiping
Is this about me?
Are they measuring my decisions?
Turn up the heat and burn your old self to the ground
Stepping stone, salt bath and incense
The pool didn’t wash away your loneliness, neither did the moon
I wish I couldn’t feel that is something wrong with me when I’m with you
The incense is touching the dirt, and the smell is acid and intense
By going within, there’s so much you can do, and then nothing