D E C E M B E R ' 22

For new years I wish a tired heart, a  relenting one. One that does not wish, and one that does not jump with excitement. One that has given up, and one that has learnt peace in exhaustion.

For new years I wish an old man's sense of humour, and an old woman's instinct. For new years I want to unlearn hope and forget expectations; to walk in darkness.

For new years I wish a tragedy to come to a close, I wish some nightmares to go away, I wish to turn off a stove, and remove a boiling pot. For new years, I wish to fill mint water in ice cube trays and put them in my juice for an afternoon drink on a sweaty day. For new years I want mundanity.

For new years I wish to write a book, and sell crochet cardigans made out of beige and coffee granny squares.

But for new years all I want, is to really, completely, visibly — fall down.

goodbye
9/12/22