I feel a pain when I look inside houses,
orange tint, lit like ****, like bloodshot eyes staring back at mine,
I only ever lived in cheap apartments, and we moved somewhere new every few years
People grow up in houses, they come and go when they're older, they die in them
My only experience being welcome in a house, a man I knew who's wife ended up dying in it
It was only weeks later when he took his own life in it
I'm afraid of houses, the implications of commitment, the familiarity, the comfort
When the foundation becomes cancerous,
These never ending thoughts of how your comfort can become a haunted house
I'm so afraid of death.
I know I wrote that poem, last December,
I said I no longer fear death
Let me correct it
I no longer fear dying
But I fear death
God, do I fear death
Sometimes, I like to believe I'm a superhero,
queen of dissociation, maybe
My trauma, my dysphoria is nothing in the context of this...prophecy, plot armor, whatever it is keeping in line with the story
of who I am, where I came from, of how this pain truly meant something
but if I abandon fiction to breathe uncertainty
raise my arms in front of me, bracing
where do I exist outside of me
written feb 13 2019