exhausted, but thoughts still come. I say this
and then sleep. Quiet the thoughts. Quiet.

I lay in a borrowed bed and wonder of my plans.
I wonder why. I made it here but I don’t want to stay,
and each day for weeks I ask myself why L.A.?
I knew, I don’t anymore. Many reasons.
I don’t want to be here
I don’t want to be there I don’t think, or when I think too much
anywhere.
Far behind everything outside that is seen
there is fear
and sometimes I don’t have the ways to push it back.

I lay in a borrowed bed
and wonder of my plans.

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