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Natalie 5d
that august,
when you left,
it felt as though you took
every source of earthly air.
and all i could do
was sputter and gasp
and choke on my despair.
and too **** often
i still find myself mourning your absence in pantomime,
whispering out midnight cries
so no one else can hear how much i miss you.
Natalie Dec 2018
your absence
will be my death.
my mind will not let me forget you.
my heart will not let you go.
i see your face as i lie alone—
as i close my eyes
this last time
against the steady darkness of night...
Natalie Dec 2018
my thoughts crumble to bits
under the pressure of my skull,
under the weight of my consciousness.

they collapse to dust, to subatomic
that cannot be broken down
to anything less.

this dust—these dark particles spin
in vast empty space between my ears,
colliding with each other, fusing
into angst and despair.
Natalie Dec 2018
He floats there near the bottom,
Dragged and anchored like a ship
To seabed by rusted fetters,
Down where ***** shuffle a slow
Ribbon dance, twirling black seaweeds
And long grasses,
Where they snap out a rhythm
In solemn beatnik fashion to mournful
Whale songs like low saxophone moans,
And where the disapproving clucks
Of dolphins’ tongues echo
In quiet communal protest.

His body floats bloated in brine,
Cheeks puffed like wet bread,
Skin grey and shadowed blueblack,
His face slack,
Broad chest beaconed out of dark waters
By dim pleated streams
Of ocean light.
An elegy for those slaves thrown overboard
during the Zong Massacre of the Middle Passage.
Natalie Dec 2018
the word spreads itself
across my tongue, thick
and stiff as carcass flesh,
bones locked, ligaments
taut, as though tensed
for the crushing tide of oblivion—
the weight of nothingness
instead of water.

my tongue is dense as earth,
cold and steeley
as a silver autopsy table,
and the word lies supine,
exposed upon my lips.
Natalie Dec 2018
The body, I drag with me—
Drag it in tow behind ghost-spirit
That floats easily through viscous
Earthly air, though the body
Trudges behind.

To spirit,
The laws of friction do not apply,
And mine parts from me at will,
Floating along faster
Than I can follow.

I am left with only numb, dull flesh:
A shaking hand here, heaving chest there,
Two legs beneath me, aching. I am
The essence of corporeal matter
Gone mad.
Feelings Journal, Ketler Unit A, Nov. 2018
Natalie Dec 2018
wring me out
of everything—
all the thoughts damp
with mildew, old rotten mind,
brain like brown ground beef,
pale with dead blood
and green with fuzz.
wring me out.
when you are finished,
there may be nothing left—
hardly anything left, but
extract this mentality
like sebum from a blemish on my cheek.

There will be nothing left.
Nov. 2018, Ketler Unit ***
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