pain is too many exclamation points - some kind of overcompensation for the sober realization that we need to be happy, but aren't
pain is burnt toast, but not in the good way; like the way that it sits on your tongue Makes your mouth taste like metal, makes your words feel like crumbs waiting to be swept away
today, I laughed too much, so by 3 o' clock I had no smiles left in me They have gone like I have gone to sleep waiting for some alarm to sing to ring with something like hope something to cut the rope, the knots my stomach ties when I don't notice Pain is knowing that you know this will hurt and knowing is half the battle.
But knowing is...half the battle The rest of the war is dealing with more exclamation points than you wanted more mornings without alarms
more meals of only crumbs.
another spoken poem i've been meaning to post somewhere, haven't recorded it but it's an idea that's been in my head a long time.