phonecalls on facebook ******* trigger me
transports me back to last semester
like some sort of sick boat ride
to the magic kingdom
perverts dressed as mickey mouse
asking if i want a selfie

and i get angry.
angry that i can't use those little plastic eraser guards
we used to make patterns on paper with
as children
to erase your fingerprints from my flesh.

i rub at them regardless,
smudging away at my own contour lines
losing contrast,
value,
scale
my repeating shapes are starting to look a lot
like a pattern my mother wore
reflecting off her red cheeks
as she laid on the couch late at night
her arm over her face.

and i'm terrified,
honestly.
i'm terrified of the damage i've yet to assess
once i make it outside myself
i'm on my way out
this month
and there's only a few days
of october
left

my mother spent the month of june watching fruit rot on the countertop
before she put it all in garbage bags and left
and that is how i feel
late at night
when peace evades me.

did you think you could just take
the most vulnerable parts of me
and then leave without saying a word,
like i wouldn't rage a storm on you?
like it hasn't happened to me before?
did you think you would be so special
that i would let you ruin me?
because you got the one girl that your teammates couldn't stop talking about.
because you used her.
because she told you about the things
that made her bones ache?
and then you left,
without saying one word.
did it make you feel good?
and now you can't even pick up
the phone and answer when she asks
why.
because you are that weak.
honey, let's be real here:
you could never handle this storm
and we both knew that.

We are all moths
seeking the moon
but finding streetlights
instead.

*

-JBClaywell

© P&ZPublications

it's okay to want home
when everything is just so foreign

a thousand moons
condensed into
a single drop
of silver.

your eyes
hold
my world.