Morning tiles meet slippered feet
Dishes fill the kitchen sink
Your ears are dulled by sleepless nights
And our voices almost never meet
You sit on the weakest seat
The one with the skinny knees
Your elbows stick to the plastic place
Mat melted by the kitchens heat

You don't go anywhere
Sleep burrows still in the morning hair
That bent fingers run through to land upon
The second hand table and chairs

Anna you don't eat anything
Your eyes are starting to cave in
The sun reflects off the pool of glasses
Gathered in the kitchen sink
Anna, don't believe anything
Until you have had a chance to think
And as far as I can tell everyone else
Has something bigger than them