October stings and March aches.
The days in between
are measured in ounces of coffee and
hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Stacks of books collect dust while
the bathtub faucet is always running.
Soapy, hot water washes away the grime of another day spent waiting.
Steam emanates off of the tops of my thighs.
This is the closest I'll ever get to glowing in the dark.
Jan 31, 2022
Jan 31, 2022 at 7:26 PM UTC
All of the plans I had written in my head for myself are now no longer options.
Big beautiful blueprints, but I no longer have any of the right materials to build. The materials I do have left... I have no idea what to build with.
I am in limbo.
Every morning while I brush my teeth it feels like I spend an eternity trying to sketch out in my head:
1. who I am
2. who I want to be
and
3. where I'm going.
But most nights, when I crawl in bed and stare out the window I find myself scratching at it all with a big pink rubber eraser;
"This is all I am, this is all there is".
These plans never even last a day.
Jul 17, 2021
Jul 17, 2021 at 2:21 PM UTC
“she sleeps, she’s quite,
she’s depressed...”
parental whispers,
I hold my breath.
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 12:01 AM UTC
Swallowed in a beige sea of packing paper and boxes,
Scattered sheets of iridescent bubble wrap at my feet.
The bare mattress, lying naked, exposed on the floor makes me swell. Queasy and uncomfortable in this space.
This feeling is new. Unfamiliar and strange. I don't like the way it envelopes me. Constricting and unshakeable.
"Just one moment longer. Just one last rest."
The mattress, she sighs and settles under my weight.
I close my eyes, and hold my breath.
I can hear the faint rumble of the train in the distance, the ever present hum of traffic, the buzz as the heat kicks in through the vent above my head.
I open my eyes, and notice a blotch of grey paint on the ceiling. I am reminded of the weekend I painted these walls. I am reminded of pride that filled my chest, and buzzed off my skin.
I am reminded that I will miss this color, these walls.
Slowly a warmth builds between my skin and cloth.
She holds me, supports me, embraces me as I allow the swell to seep into her white stitching and fill her frame.
"What's next? What happens once all of these boxes are packed, and this room is empty?" she asks.
I melt into her. Accepting it.
"I don't know... I don't know."
Jan 22, 2021
Jan 22, 2021 at 11:53 AM UTC
Disappointment weighs heavy,
Lead ***** roll in the pit of my gut,
I cannot lift my head from this pillow,
my body from this bed.
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 10:38 PM UTC
Dense thoughts,
metallic in taste.
Iron
seeps into my neurons,
coats my proteins,
flows freely between my synapses.
My head, a chrome bowling ball,
too heavy for my little hands to carry.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 11:26 PM UTC
I don't think
I am capable
of breaking someone's
heart,
because I know
too well
what it is like
to have one.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 10:48 PM UTC
I feel the need to fill it all up,
my days, that is,
gather plans and gorge
on seamless social interactions,
slurping up smiles and gulping
down the cool liquid of laughter,
picking my teeth with the bare bones of boring conversation.
I’m an introvert, but time alone isn’t helping anymore.
Alone, I spiral. I starve.
What is the purpose?
Someone distract me from these things in my head called thoughts.
Nourish me, I am dying and I’m wanting it, too.
Please,
laugh until my stomach is so stuffed that I heave out another joke.
Talk until I bite my tongue and bleed, eagerly chewing, cheeks
hurting.
What neon emptiness has driven me here
to the all-you-can-eat buffet?
While I feast on my friends under these fluorescents
my shadows only wait.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 1:13 AM UTC
Nectar that soothes and leaves me
a-blossom.
Your words drip slow and syrupy,
like honey,
from your lips.
Aug 4, 2020
Aug 4, 2020 at 11:58 PM UTC