Not This Time

i stayed up to finally write some thoughts down, and this is all i have. i tried, but it's too late, and i'm kind of sick.

i can say some shorts things. i dare to write about work here, but it has been harder than ever. i think that's good enough to say that i wonder about what it's become amongst such hardship. my heart is hard there: amoungst the ink, machines, and clothing. oh, help me with this one. it's made me weak. i want to be in places where we all shine beautiful for each other. we all seem to be more beautiful than this place of profit. i can only hope that my hands are used to bless, and not to destroy. i need so much mercy. oh for these bones to be strong and hopeful. oh dry bones.

that's enough for tonite. i'm getting poetically parenthetical. or just awkwardly abstract.

i'll try again tmw. put this one in the back pocket.