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  Jul 2019 Aerial Fabish
her head always hurts

its filled to the brim with undetonated shells

or asteroids that just missed earth

or anything that should have destroyed her

every time she survives an accident
her head aches more

so she dreams of disasters

she wishes for tsunamis

she begs for war

her brain is a minefield
and she is dancing on it
Aerial Fabish Jul 2019
the words spill onto the page as i think about
how my skin melts under your tongue
how your tide shifts beneath my gaze
how our garden flourishes out of the darkness
and despite the miles of mud i trek through
you are always traveling the road beside me
      your palms stretch towards the clouds
      your eyes close as you welcome the warmth
you are the child of sunbeams and ocean waves
and i was birthed under an ebony sky in a river of moonlight

somehow we met here in the middle

and it is here in the middle that we love
Aerial Fabish Feb 2018
"It comes in waves"
More like it resurfaces
You know, because depression is always with me,
Just not always where you can see.
It is the angsty teen hiding in his room until the guests leave.
It is the bad poetry he keeps in a notebook under the bed.
It is the pack of cigarettes he buries in his underwear drawer;
Someone must search to find it.
Depression cannot come in waves.
If it could, wouldn't I be able to ride it out -
Or is drowning my punishment for not learning how to surf?
You see, because I have never surfed in my life.
Everything must wash over me.
I bathe in the ocean instead of the bathtub,
I scrub saltwater into my paper cuts until they are more painful than an open wound in an attempt to validate the sadness that stays with me.
Because even though it is nameless, it is as daunting as the dinner guest,
Hidden, yet embarrassing letters on paper forming words resembling a poem,
Intangible, but quickly filling my lungs and spreading into my bloodstream
Imitating pleasure and escape while slowly releasing dangerous chemicals
While exuding toxins that ****** my relationships and self-worth.
If depression were waves, I could find beauty in them.
Instead, my perception views dismemberments of values,
Shattered pieces of what "before" looked like:
Before the anxiety.
Before the embarrassment.
Before the shame.
If depression truly comes in waves, give me time between to learn to ride them to shore.
This is my first attempt at slam poetry. I put time into this and let it stew for a bit... I'm hoping I managed to convey what I saw in my head. I'm working on showing, not telling; trying to use more intense imagery to show my point.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Please please tell me if there is a way I could improve it. I'm always looking for critiques.
  Feb 2018 Aerial Fabish
i. lionhearted girl
with teeth and ambitions bared
in a gentle heart.

ii. the strongest metals
between iron and silver
are your elements.

iii. a force of nature
like a warm ray of sunshine
on a winter day.
just some galentine's haikus for my 3 favorite gals!!
  Feb 2018 Aerial Fabish
I don’t know how to write

I only know how to feel, how to bleed

The red seeps into the page

Then somehow sentences are formed

Someone finds it, in a dusty wooden chest

In the back of the room

It’s been hidden, untouched, for years, and I didn’t know there was anyone else left

Somehow my heart isn’t the only one beating
  Feb 2018 Aerial Fabish
your words get lost in the
tangled web of my hair
sticky wet from tears and sea
Aerial Fabish Feb 2018
words spark
angry flames
that burn down
into resentful embers
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