Shit storm

This is how it settles in, cold, 

like snow fall, except it's a shit storm

and it's quietly subtle in that loud

and obnoxious way quiet can be,

reminding you of the empty spaces

in between. 

I wanted it to be perfect 

when I came home, 

but it's empty and messy 

and there are things missing 

from where they used to be:

proof of what's gathered, 

tossed aside

until now. 

I'm the kind of removed, 

where everything looks a tad 

fucked up- dazed, disdained,

and everyone is doing it all wrong

and maybe I'm just a little sad

because I feel really alone.

And I miss you.