to a city in which ive overstayed my welcome. butterflies swarming around my bellybutton, now littered about my feet clipped wings. small businesses are being evicted, ive abused my library privileges, and maybe everything's going to shit (independent of). i cannot count on my fingers how many times ive wanted to drop to my knees on boylston. it's like you took a seam ripper and pried out growing pains, stitched into locked joints. big love to the T and whatever else got and kept me around… city that's always just a single tier down yet oblivious to what it’s lacking. great city if you can circumvent the wayfair office, never make it to rowes wharf, and forever loathe lovejoy. there’s more to come to this city in my absence: the epstein mit saga, green line extension into medford $$$ landlords, i dont know, humor me, as you do. thankyou to every inch of pavement i pounded and every pound of pavement ive heaved. on another note, plsdont misinterpret what i have not established; nothing i do is intentional. the point.. well i guess it's comforting to see ppl in the 60's sitting in the same goddamned chairs that we are sitting in today. bc chairs are chairs, people are people, you can only get so far and no one is leaving the fucking station until the man in the 5th car stands clear of the closing doors. all the same
