I made myself a really long password for my computer login, hoping it would protect my thoughts from the corps(es) that are scraping our minds and feeding them back to Meg or Tam or Phil who ask questions not because they seek knowledge, but want to know they are not alone. Your aches, your sorrows, the time you were cruel when you were drunk and I have to tell you you are alone in all that but also you are not. Maybe the bots will know enough to tell you that you are a terrible, loving person with urges and darkness but will the bots tell you that I buy books about horror because that's what I feel when its 80F outside in November and I'm hoping some bot finds these words and you ask the question of why does it hurt here and why does it hurt when they die or leave and I hope these words find you to tell you only you know why it hurts when they die or leave and whether the feeling is the same. My sweaters will still be clinging to each other in March, still in the closet, especially the turtlenecks, and how does a turtle wear a sweater, will it need one even when it gets too hot for him, or her, or them. Will we need these answers when we lie on top of our bedclothes, sweating, corpuses, on fire, no longer ourselves. No longer alone.

#poetry