the whole world is just sitting on my chest
3 to 1 i take a deep breath
within the corners of my mind i wept
there's been dry humor
telling me to grab my own flesh as ease
of comfort
sometimes that is all you have
said my mother digging in the garden,
lodged 3 jobs deep
May 11, 2022
May 11, 2022 at 10:24 PM UTC
There is goodness written all over you
so much so
that i will spend a very long time
reading it all
i kiss every corner in hopes of understanding
how perfection can be so warm
caramel tastes sweeter to me now
that i have tasted the butteryness of your own
my mother would be proud
of what i have found
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 6:40 PM UTC
i dread stepping out of my succumbed selfness
where water puts pressure to thought
and to do anything productive
im not ought
i dont want to leave
but im told to go on to face
a faceless world
no one touches me here
and the walls are mine
the tile is overlooked and i resonate
time here isn't
and im never late
theres simply
the dull sound of monotonous water tones
to keep me company
and i want for not
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 9:17 PM UTC
bend over
bend backwards
lean over
yell these words from life
all different and quite the same
i'll live until I perfect your name
i walk endlessly around my brain tunnels
reconstitution of my puzzle pieces
my life is the whole framed and the game
of the tunnels i fall into the deepest ones
and try to transcribe
work that was never supposed to be mine
i will spend the rest of my lives
perfecting your name
letting my teeth touch, quick
a greeting for your Name's
arrival on my lips, a meeting
9 to forever
you get me out of my brain
i have learned to fully love
these days
Jun 19, 2021
Jun 19, 2021 at 9:13 PM UTC
I look at you as you look in the distance
I take you in as you sing nothings and somethings
tapping fingernails on your water bottle
I look at you
spotting the things I got and what I ain't
only things I can perceive
you remind me of what my inner voice
would sound like
isn't that right?
May 26, 2021
May 26, 2021 at 8:52 PM UTC
You have me thinking in future past tense
You've filled every space you haven't even been in yet
May 26, 2021
May 26, 2021 at 8:50 PM UTC
Eyes familiar with the small closing of the lid
like a door slamming shut
I'm on the other side
Foot steps leave and I am left
the cold floor pressing against my naked arm left
trying to push me up
Heavy,
I remember what I hear and don't
I fight, me and them
toe to toe
I lay still
my body will not respond to ambivalence
I find a calm sliver
the lid returns to open
slowly safely
making sure I get the experience
I'm in a different room
but my body is the same
I have been so many in one
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 3:05 PM UTC
Laying my body down
palm resting on the back of my head
ready for a new one
The grief that comes from change
is the most personal death
and source of new breath
So let's hear it
for me
and me
Apr 20, 2021
Apr 20, 2021 at 9:39 PM UTC
Who will tend to her,
the plights of the past?
How noble of me
to be the one
even when I had
no hand in her creation.
I will do what I have
always
and take care
of what is not mine.
Not to live
but to give while I do.
This life
born into giving
but never asked.
We begin so behind.
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 8:30 PM UTC
The walls were painted white. When you touched them, ran your hand palm facing against the absence of color, it seemed, it felt, as though some of the white would come with you. Almost dust like. It was always odd to pull away and see the same palm as before, swearing some of the wall had just come off. My palm can still feel that white. Perhaps it did brush off in dust patterns, just not in the ways I thought. I did that quite often, running my hand against those cheap painted old walls. Walls my mother never let me paint a different color. She dreaded any foreseen stressor, like one of her opinionated daughters complaining about a choice she thought was right. God forbid I chose a color and didn’t like it after application. Through this I learned both that homes and rooms are just places, to be filtered through rather than homed and I learned fear of choice. I make choice almost recklessly now, but I am simply a separate person.
I touched those walls so often and it’s not til now that I wonder how stacked lifeless dead wood was supposed to make me feel at home anyways. Did the builders of the structure know that what they believed to be created shelter became my cage? Of course they didn’t. But I do wonder if they ever wonder about what their untied labor later creates. White caging walls. Brittle, able to be toppled by the wrath of god, yet my little fists could do nothing. I suppose I am to be the image of god only, not the strength.
I touched those walls at night, after a long evening of eating honey nut cheerios on the edge of my green bed, watching mindless tv, only able to focus on my visions of perceived joy I would get from emotionless eating and the immediate pleasure I would receive in my brain after regurgitating it only 30 minutes later. Any later and my body might have begun to absorb the nutrients. And god forbid I became formidable in any way. I wanted to be thin and brittle, simply an image. God’s strength never moved me nor my walls. How caged I was by my own person. I remember that joy as much as the sadness that no one would ever hear me. Would know what was happening to me. I was simply a room in another room. It was quiet everywhere and the air always felt thin.
The green on that bed really only served to emphasize the white walls more. It was not mine as nothing ever really was. They were white like paper.
Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 12:53 PM UTC