shake away my body
hustle when you tear at it
i don't want to be perceived

I feel wrong in my age
Wrong in that
To be in any other body
Than that when I was ten
Is to stretch and tear and wear me down
I am worn
I feel old
I feel my skin sagging over the muscle
The muscle sagging over the bone
I am the last breath of a murdered corpse
I am the last of my friends
The last of my family
My lack of power
Is shown through shaking fingers
Protruding bones
I am wrong

Every day
Feels like another test
To see how much more I can take

Different meanings to the passing bird
I heard you've been mentioning my name
I heard it all until 5am
I dream I'll hear it again
There was no moon today
In the place where it should usually be
At this hour
It was full the night before
The sky is clear now
I wonder what it might mean

I went on a walk
And failed to find any cool rocks

recite me sappho
through your breath
and beneath your palms

I've lately had the dream
where you look at me and ask
if I sometimes feel we were meant to be
I'm honest when I say yes

I'm choosing to no longer believe
what anyone tells me about healing
healing is not care or rest
healing
is not sleeping for a week
drinking endless amounts of coffee
writing about isolation
writing about your childhood ghost
and how you've decided
to play your own tricks with time
I am detached and livid
at the assumption that I have processed
anything they've tried to tell me