what is this weariness that waits for you shrug you press your ankle against my arm this is the pressure that i love you always recommended it could be the door could be the phone for any intent or purpose you re not home you re up against the wall no real impression like breath on glass i ve got the apple in me too people are bluer then they ever imagined they might be looking through the boxes in the basement who were you then your restlessness is emptier then the room we used to live in here s wishing you the best the rest is always better left unsaid