When my past comes to visit me,
it isn't a smack in the face.
It gradually creeps up,
wrapping itself around my body,
engulfing me.
It knocks down all my feelings
and throws them away,
making room for itself.
My past is not a welcome guest,
but it's hard to kick it out.

I'm so used to loneliness that I don't mind it.

We acknowledge the beauty
of earth destructing,
but look away
when we hurt ourselves.