it all boils down to a box of suggestions for that noise space inside of your head.and the whole world will watch sifting through the toxic tumbling mess,
a hiccuping disarray of words and phrases.
spoken by friends mostly made of pain.
they drive to work
and home again after the day has happened.
they often say, although alone, their thankful.
speaking to the officer who pulled them over while sleepy eyes guided them home.
explanation of their hourly traumas to the figure with a flashlight in their eyes.
there's holes in their tongues, stumbling for words.
their lives are so hard.
corporate and furnished.
shaken by the small words and phrases,
suggestions in a box.
