my spine is cracking more
these days
what happened to my pen
that used to litter my journals
with chicken scratches
that were more raw
than this clarity will ever be
why did I turn her off
and shut her away
where she now erupts
my mother says I've gotten smaller
and look for once like a child
I feel, for once, like a child
Everything I'm feeling,
I've felt once before
that horrifies me
comfort in dreaming
reliance in hope
I am building myself to fall
but I'm pretending not to know
feigning ignorance
to comfort my lack of motivation
to console the last shot
I'm young enough to do it all over
old enough for it to mean nothing