to stay

okay I’m not going to wait until my tongue turns grey or die before I’ve said how sad to be twenty-two and cradling matches and a pen but then if nothing ever makes a woman manic and ashamed who said I can mistake of course I lick my finger to thumb a page my thoughts all lie along concrete slabs worrying bashful but awake like godless slugs stuck on the sand alright slowly undulating but to move is still to stay