morning of substance September 19

Voices though the walls
have woken up to nothing.

My kin are painting the sky
I stand here, look at the way my days fill up
no one calls me, I forget my name.

Constant rain, overgrown grass
missing a broken mirror,
going to the bank to discover,
how rarely I visit it.

Wearing informals,
sensuality was about wearing a smile, depth, prettiness?
moths and bees surround me,
she says, I need to exercise.