mayaanabel - Hello Poetry

I am leftovers disappointing takeout you spent too much money on (you're supposed to be saving) sitting in the back of the fridge guilt keeping me there long past expiration though I'm inedible I like to hope that my stomach aches and sluggish breath, heavy head are symptoms of childhood dramatics turned teenage angst when I'm evicted from my teens I'll probably call it a quarter life crisis even so, I've accepted its permanence I wish on dandelion fluff variations of the same thing that one morning I'll wake from a night of giggles with people I love swallow down papaya tablets and the sickening feeling will actually dissolve My happy is like hot glue dripped on fingers - accidental quick to stick when it cools it molts takes my fingerprints with it leaving my finger tips raw I can't keep secrets, especially my own they like to creep up my throat slither out unannounced while I'm on car rides; restless they can't hold still for the four hours that get me everywhere I know now I used to be incapable of shutting my eyes when the cosmetologist rinsed my hair it felt like a trick like shed crack my neck on the sink as soon as I relaxed instead I'd count ceiling tiles to avoid eye contact Now I feel proud when I fall asleep on the train or with someone else in my bed I count how long I can squeeze my eyes shut in the cereal aisle forcing trust to prove something to myself

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Jan 29, 2021

Jan 29, 2021 at 12:18 PM UTC

A meditation on self worth

I am leftovers disappointing takeout you spent too much money on (you're supposed to be saving) sitting in the back of the fridge guilt keeping me there long past expiration though I'm inedible I like to hope that my stomach aches and sluggish breath, heavy head are symptoms of childhood dramatics turned teenage angst when I'm evicted from my teens I'll probably call it a quarter life crisis even so, I've accepted its permanence I wish on dandelion fluff variations of the same thing that one morning I'll wake from a night of giggles with people I love swallow down papaya tablets and the sickening feeling will actually dissolve My happy is like hot glue dripped on fingers - accidental quick to stick when it cools it molts takes my fingerprints with it leaving my finger tips raw I can't keep secrets, especially my own they like to creep up my throat slither out unannounced while I'm on car rides; restless they can't hold still for the four hours that get me everywhere I know now I used to be incapable of shutting my eyes when the cosmetologist rinsed my hair it felt like a trick like shed crack my neck on the sink as soon as I relaxed instead I'd count ceiling tiles to avoid eye contact Now I feel proud when I fall asleep on the train or with someone else in my bed I count how long I can squeeze my eyes shut in the cereal aisle forcing trust to prove something to myself

44

I'm not obsessed with bones anymore how they sound hollow when tapped and prodded I don't think about it anymore hooking my fingers beneath, ripping to crack open a wish I barely imagine anymore prying open all twenty four to expose lungs, heart, liver I almost never fantasize anymore about pushing them back in tighter the satisfying ache of missing pieces I guess I still think about it

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Jan 15, 2021

Jan 15, 2021 at 6:08 PM UTC

Bones II

I'm not obsessed with bones anymore how they sound hollow when tapped and prodded I don't think about it anymore hooking my fingers beneath, ripping to crack open a wish I barely imagine anymore prying open all twenty four to expose lungs, heart, liver I almost never fantasize anymore about pushing them back in tighter the satisfying ache of missing pieces I guess I still think about it

13

I have a fever sweat through my shirt 50° heat cool air, warm seats The road, the ocean pulling, it would be so easy Dream like, half gone lobotomized state 391 miles till I dead end maybe i never dead end Shocked awake acid climbing stomach ache I know what I’m doing Reevaluate hot cold lung ache icy breathing fever break Whisper, I’m ok, ok, ok, ok headlight stains red draining brain Rub and run, loosen peel, reveal sinew beneath breathe, breathe, breathe

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Dec 28, 2020

Dec 28, 2020 at 10:19 PM UTC

Another Ode to Night Drives and Anxiety

I have a fever sweat through my shirt 50° heat cool air, warm seats The road, the ocean pulling, it would be so easy Dream like, half gone lobotomized state 391 miles till I dead end maybe i never dead end Shocked awake acid climbing stomach ache I know what I’m doing Reevaluate hot cold lung ache icy breathing fever break Whisper, I’m ok, ok, ok, ok headlight stains red draining brain Rub and run, loosen peel, reveal sinew beneath breathe, breathe, breathe

25

I can’t choke it back the feeling lascivious. Hissing the word is fitting Malevolence rock solid. How do I know what this feels like? Can’t I choke it back? Touch anyways? Wake, drenched in sweat. Angels take my dreams take them, take them please. Peel back the heavy floral scratching duvet. There’s a boy and a girl a girl and a boy in a bed a bed big and wide and full of girl girl girl boy. I don’t like that side. Come with me won’t you? Personal barrier reef, exempt I suppose and you didn’t want to scared you were scared and I was scared. I can’t choke it back. Blue panels, outside the dirt hill we played on ants on their mound you can see it from the window. It’s always cold in this room full of ghosts and fog thick grey suffocating. Radiator bangs startle. The mattress against the wall slam against it full speed. Dizzy. Why was there a mattress against the wall? I tense. There’s something there two inches too far back I can’t quite grasp. A feeling, the way my stomach goes acidic and my knees draw together. Buzzing in my head. Flies. They bombard my orifices nose mouth ears I can’t breath can’t hear Delicate vulnerability plays out grab, tighter now, laugh. I go numb arms limp, useless. Veins stop pumping my cold blood and eyes take it upon themselves to warm the face. It’s getting better. Grab me hard, I barely cry now just shake, numb and separate body and mind. Oil and water.

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Dec 28, 2020

Dec 28, 2020 at 9:41 PM UTC

hypothesis

I can’t choke it back the feeling lascivious. Hissing the word is fitting Malevolence rock solid. How do I know what this feels like? Can’t I choke it back? Touch anyways? Wake, drenched in sweat. Angels take my dreams take them, take them please. Peel back the heavy floral scratching duvet. There’s a boy and a girl a girl and a boy in a bed a bed big and wide and full of girl girl girl boy. I don’t like that side. Come with me won’t you? Personal barrier reef, exempt I suppose and you didn’t want to scared you were scared and I was scared. I can’t choke it back. Blue panels, outside the dirt hill we played on ants on their mound you can see it from the window. It’s always cold in this room full of ghosts and fog thick grey suffocating. Radiator bangs startle. The mattress against the wall slam against it full speed. Dizzy. Why was there a mattress against the wall? I tense. There’s something there two inches too far back I can’t quite grasp. A feeling, the way my stomach goes acidic and my knees draw together. Buzzing in my head. Flies. They bombard my orifices nose mouth ears I can’t breath can’t hear Delicate vulnerability plays out grab, tighter now, laugh. I go numb arms limp, useless. Veins stop pumping my cold blood and eyes take it upon themselves to warm the face. It’s getting better. Grab me hard, I barely cry now just shake, numb and separate body and mind. Oil and water.

68

I placate the serpent in my belly Comfort food and pills And fetal regression. I try to swallow it down With lavender tea and warm milk But it slithers up my throat Not quite strong enough To fully extricate itself. The scales tickle my throat Forcing reticent groans. If it works it's way out it will swallow me whole.

0

Dec 3, 2020

Dec 3, 2020 at 11:18 PM UTC

Slither

I placate the serpent in my belly Comfort food and pills And fetal regression. I try to swallow it down With lavender tea and warm milk But it slithers up my throat Not quite strong enough To fully extricate itself. The scales tickle my throat Forcing reticent groans. If it works it's way out it will swallow me whole.

12

The leaves crackle beneath boots heavy with our tension. The thread winds and it winds and it winds, stretched taut with every word yelled quietly. A game of telephone family gossip factory pumping out misspoken and misheard words. Peacemaker sticking their nose in the cerulean fire. On forced walks we pick pinecones and get pricked by their sharp edges hard enough to cause pain, not quite to bleed. Outside the pine walls where my windpipe can fall open hearth smoke drifts and congests and it smells like autumn.

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Nov 13, 2020

Nov 13, 2020 at 11:44 PM UTC

Back Home

The leaves crackle beneath boots heavy with our tension. The thread winds and it winds and it winds, stretched taut with every word yelled quietly. A game of telephone family gossip factory pumping out misspoken and misheard words. Peacemaker sticking their nose in the cerulean fire. On forced walks we pick pinecones and get pricked by their sharp edges hard enough to cause pain, not quite to bleed. Outside the pine walls where my windpipe can fall open hearth smoke drifts and congests and it smells like autumn.

28

The hydrangeas look tired In the well kempt yards They look thirsty, gasping Like they can't breathe They remind me of old friends They remind me of me It makes me sad That I get used to the smell Of the dirt, the cold Earth And the flowers and trees And even the sea. They all smell like nothing eventually. I can hear the stream Way down in the gorge I can hear the leaves falling Soft and slow From the canopy To the gentle valley below Most birds don't sing So sweet and so kind They chitter hysterically Sharply, calling out For some sort of lifeline Maybe just each other I wish the Earth could embrace me I do what I can to accept the gracious Reassurance of its magnetic energy Taking solace in the knowledge That eventually the ground will envelop me And I'll dissolve; Raindrop to the sea.

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Nov 9, 2020

Nov 9, 2020 at 11:48 PM UTC

Walk in the Woods

The hydrangeas look tired In the well kempt yards They look thirsty, gasping Like they can't breathe They remind me of old friends They remind me of me It makes me sad That I get used to the smell Of the dirt, the cold Earth And the flowers and trees And even the sea. They all smell like nothing eventually. I can hear the stream Way down in the gorge I can hear the leaves falling Soft and slow From the canopy To the gentle valley below Most birds don't sing So sweet and so kind They chitter hysterically Sharply, calling out For some sort of lifeline Maybe just each other I wish the Earth could embrace me I do what I can to accept the gracious Reassurance of its magnetic energy Taking solace in the knowledge That eventually the ground will envelop me And I'll dissolve; Raindrop to the sea.

30

wade into the Ocean knee deep or so shut your eyes tight feel the sand - solid - beneath your toes. begin to slip unsteady, afraid of the unknown hear it in the waves as it bites and it roars it's telling you something the sharp needle pain can become a whisper a firm embrace if you listen long enough

0

Nov 9, 2020

Nov 9, 2020 at 11:44 PM UTC

Conversations with the Ocean

wade into the Ocean knee deep or so shut your eyes tight feel the sand - solid - beneath your toes. begin to slip unsteady, afraid of the unknown hear it in the waves as it bites and it roars it's telling you something the sharp needle pain can become a whisper a firm embrace if you listen long enough

14

EXHAUSTED slips from my lips like a sigh abandoned not halfway through for a yawn. EXHAUSTED silent H, obvious in my mouth. Like sharing too many words; unnecessary. EXHAUSTED synonym for the sick stomach squeezing feeling, barely breathing through tentacles entwining my insides.

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Nov 9, 2020

Nov 9, 2020 at 11:43 PM UTC

Exhaustion

EXHAUSTED slips from my lips like a sigh abandoned not halfway through for a yawn. EXHAUSTED silent H, obvious in my mouth. Like sharing too many words; unnecessary. EXHAUSTED synonym for the sick stomach squeezing feeling, barely breathing through tentacles entwining my insides.

18

There is something so familiar about fluorescent lights and white tile; it's so familiar my stomach aches. I think it comes from the times I laid myself bare in bathroom stalls; safe havens of false privacy, a reliable friend. The trash receptacles that held words that choked my fifteen year old throat. The faithful ceiling fans that ****** up my desperate time killing smoke. The scratched up mirrors I'd stare into without even seeing myself. I could sit for hours hot head on the cool tile the bright lights tiring my eyes, tasting salt, and smelling the cheap pink soap, feeling the heavy comfort, like home.

0

Sep 13, 2020

Sep 13, 2020 at 10:04 PM UTC

Bathrooms

There is something so familiar about fluorescent lights and white tile; it's so familiar my stomach aches. I think it comes from the times I laid myself bare in bathroom stalls; safe havens of false privacy, a reliable friend. The trash receptacles that held words that choked my fifteen year old throat. The faithful ceiling fans that ****** up my desperate time killing smoke. The scratched up mirrors I'd stare into without even seeing myself. I could sit for hours hot head on the cool tile the bright lights tiring my eyes, tasting salt, and smelling the cheap pink soap, feeling the heavy comfort, like home.

34