I’ve seen a bunch of blinds,
Window blinds that flutter.
It’s not supposed to happen so she says,
And i am scared, but just a little

My voice sounds different sometimes
And yours does too
It often lifts me from the couch.
And sets me on the porch

There is something that follows
It sits there with its ashtray in hand
And switches the lights from white to pink
And i am scared, but just a little.

I’m supposed to repeat things too.
But to avoid confusion i stay quiet
While a preface is needed for every new friend
It’s easier to stick with you

And yes, there is a lack of fluidity.
And a hidden envelope of confidence
But until the blinds lose their flutter
I am still scared, but just a little.

i was born in raining flowers
surrounded by melodies
and magic characters

i was born into love
with hands holding
reassuring touches

i was brought to a swimming pool
with long tangled hair
a blanket of safety for us.

but
i was then taken
to a red sandbox

the rain, so important
had to go
and i was sparse here too.

ill admit, sometimes i was lucky
because twice water filled the sandbox.
except it was stained red from the sediment

and i was left feeling grit on my skin.

but then
i was returned-
not to the raining flowers

to somewhere else
where there is wisdom in the grass
and the rain is gentle and clean

and i need this place
even if i am just
condensation on a cold glass

the rain is still within me

there is a whiteboard next to my bed
it says “don’t be lazy”
even though
my mom would say
“we all have to do things we don’t want to do”

but you don’t understand
it’s not that i don’t want to,
it’s that

i can’t.

i wished i forgot to set the alarm
so i would be late for class
but the whiteboard says
“don’t waste your money”

so i force myself
to stare at the wall in the shower
and the wall in the classroom
and the wall in the doctors office

and i force myself
to have conversations
that i am not present for,

to write papers
with words
that i cannot articulate

and this made my mind more tired than it already was.

and so i fell apart,
expecting that you would take care of me.
thats what i’m supposed to do right?
but i messed up somewhere along the way

because you remain
looking anywhere
except my crying eyes

and my tears are fixed on you.
on your hands hoping they will touch me,
and your lips hoping they will tell me
that i will be okay.

today i wondered what i would be.
but my definition
is a multitude of faucets

faucets that are leaky
they drip
tiny splashes of knowledge

knowledge that i almost have
but not quite.

today i wondered why

why it’s so difficult to eat
in the mornings,
                   and afternoons,
                                       and nights.

and why my body is more beautiful when it is starved

and how come
the trees hold flowers i want to touch
but i can’t get myself to walk to the branches.

i know they will be wilted soon

because they bloomed
too early.
when winter pretended to be spring
but brought the coldness back too soon

sometimes i wonder why
on days like these
eye contact is like
replacing a lightbulb

because
i’d rather sit in darkness than
stand on the chair.

and i wonder
why i like to let my body chill
naked, on my bed after a hot shower
just to feel less numb

and if i get too cold,
then i found something to care about

to care about getting warm again