Me and five of my friends were standing in front of the mirror this one night

Webo, why do you tremble, Webo?

Throughout this fatigue, my mute state has quieted my own movements, given my mind the space to recognize some peculiar people sway in their own way

the threshold of my broken window fought with itself last night, it can never manage to close

I left a coffee shop at dusk, and I'm not sure if it was the triple shot espresso,

perhaps, not everyone is an angel

do you know me? pineapple

2 shoes  hanging

laying in my bones like a sparrow's den, is my cracked self