I've started talking to the insects
crawling along the bedroom floor.
They scuttle away
when there's nothing to say,
but I still talk some more.
I find myself conversing with
the paint on these four walls.*
They stare back at me
without expression,
but I continue much like before.
I text myself
inside my head at night
before I close my eyes.
I find that these conversations
can get lonely sometimes;
atleast I get replies.
I woke up this morning to find an insect on my bed. I reprimanded it for being there, and dropped it off outside. I forgot to say goodbye.
