I'm not your body anymore

But this crying at your door

I’m not made like that

I've got a calling

I've got a window

Where my cat sits

Where my cat licks my face

The skin is peeling away

Peeling away, peeling away

In the shadows of the morning light

With all the curtains open wide

And across the room a wilting plant

And upon my lap my folded hands

How long can I sit like this?

Been a couple weeks

Since I’ve moved these hips

Just to touch myself

When I'm alone

Just to fold my hands back up

Just to fold my hands back up

Just to fold my hands back up

And in the wanderings of my nothingness

In a wading through of uncrossed lists

And in the wanderings of my nothingness

In a wading through of uncrossed lists

And in the wanderings of my nothingness

In a wading through of uncrossed lists