too much sleep

sleeping with nickels

i find comfort in the familiarity of my head.

it seems that i left it here all along.

the loneliness, too, is welcomed;

here it is a part of life.

so many people

so many cars

so many places to go

but it still feels empty

like the remotes that slide between cushions

and the numbness of legs that have been crossed for too long.

mountains have risen dramatically

where a valley once lay dreaming.

nostalgia and forgetfulness form a union

in a cathedral that's decorated for no one.

their bands overly extravagant

marking a relationship that'll inevitably be lost

simply by their pairing.

friends quote you sin quotation marks.

they seem to have forgotten the words of a year past

their minds and hands wiped clean of everything that

has been engraved on your palms,

written in your cereal.

you too, start to be confused by a past that once was constant.

doubting the spelling of words,

ruining jokes-

the timing seems to be off.

the white watch smiles condescendingly. 

it'll all work out.

you'll listen to the songs that everyone else has deemed noteworthy

similar to the stories of a year that are told repeatedly-

conforming in a seemingly alternative format

but conforming none the less.

you'll choose your doll clothes for the concealed audience

and, standing in the middle of the crowd,

you'll start to feel the creeping disappointment

of someone who's trying too hard 

to be noticed.