you don’t have to
but you could
my journal is so contaminated with bad writing
i’m afraid to write in it anymore
i’m afraid to let anyone know
how i talk to myself alone (or
when i’m pretending to be talking to myself alone
near a great third eye suspended up)
the curse doesn’t break, i don’t think
we just write and play the piano
and look out our windows
and call back like a teller howling for a room key
“13! room 13! i need room 13”
while smiling at the nice guest
but there isn’t a room 13
it was bad luck
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