i bought ten scratched
albums at the thrift shop
and covered my white
pants in paint.

i  w a n t
t o  l e a v e

i'll be home
tomorrow night
and who knows
what i'll be missing

maybe him
probably not.

i've been writing letters
folding socks
drinking spicy
ginger tea but
what's really
wrong with me?

oil slick aesthetic
acne under the eyes
i wish this poetry
meant something more
than sadness
and a pretty word
but it's actually just
me thinking out loud.

showering twice a day
in this kind of drought
is not good
but neither am i

i  t    h  u  r  t  s

watch the words
fragment and break
apart so you can't
read them together

i  m    b  l  e  e  d  i  n  g

i've weighed and
weighted out my
options and all
the things that mattered
to me once just
don't anymore

s  u  i  c  i  d  e

i don't know
what i'm doing
or why or even
if anything is real

h  e  l  p
m  e

h   e   l   p

h    e    l    p

h     e     l     p

h
  e
   l
    l

     p