I'm just a writer.

Nothing more, but never less.
I know my worth, while you ******* stretch.
I have the cards and I have the gun
you have no clue what distress can do.

Be my buddy or be muse
Just leave me alone
If you think I'll lick the blood from your rotten wounds.

It was a few weeks and we fell high in love
I sat and gazed while he took the plunge.
I loved whenever our hands interlaced,
just delicately resting on the same gun.

I don't know how
To get her home,
Or if she has one...
Does 𝘴𝘩𝘦 even know?

If I reached out my hand,
Would she even pull?

She's been making herself larger.
I can feel her reappearance.
She gets brighter, I get darker.
Interfering with my impulse,
And it happened again...

I forgot how I got here,
Don't where I began.

▪︎ mica light ▪︎

Hiding. She's
Trying. I keep her
Confined.

Sleeping. She's
Weeping. She screams out her
Cries.

Falling. She's
Calling. There's pain in her
Eyes.

Dormant. She's
Latent. She feels
Paralyzed.

Shifting. She's
Drifting. But I keep her
Inside.

Uneasy. She's
Queasy. Yet I
Minimize.

Refracted. She's
Lasted. She cant be
Denied.

Bleeding. She's
Seeking. To be
Recognized.

Unwitting. I'm
Splitting. I say my
Goodbyes.

Heating. It's
Fleeting. My old peace of
Mind.

Conquered. I'm
Anchored. I'm treading
Neck-high.

Drowning. Heart
Pounding. My sight going
Blind.

Vehement. Not
Present. I am losing my
Pride.

Engaging. I'm
Raging. She's loud from
Inside.

Neurotic. I'm
seasick. From pain left
Behind.

Messy. We're
Heavy. There's blood on our
Lies.

Damage. I
Manage. This fall from up
High.

Numbness. Crave
Oneness. This banal state,
Mine.

Transgressing. Keep
shedding. And I'll find her
Smile.

Uplifting. Deep
Thinking. I tame what is
Wild.

           Releasing and healing
                     My own inner-child.

      
☼ Mica Light

In the morning
The sky
Is so beautiful.
The wind
sways the trees
And urges me
to dance.
The sun's rays
Shine with clarity
And the birds' songs
Invite the light.

I am at peace.

So.. I can be.

But,

Sometimes...

Swiftly...

Do you hear it?
There's a whispering...
Don't listen.
It's a trap.
There's no way.
There's no chance.

There it is again,
That fear.
The storm -
Here it comes.
Buckle down.
Id better hide.
Quick, try.
Before it sweeps
Me up too high...

But it's got my mind.
It's here.
Strong and loud,
This time.
And not slowly, but
Instantly, It
Sweeps,
Me,
Up.

I am thrown in.
I am lost within
A black space
With no boundary.
I can't find the edge.
And I've forgotten,
How,
To function.

I scream.
I collapse.
I cry.
I destroy.
I despise
Every bit
of myself.
And, still
I can't find
The way out of here.

The storm -
It thrusts
And sways.
Unsettles
And circulates.
Until it
Can no longer
Keep up
With demands.

The perpetual motion
Slows down,
And the winds
Begin to calm.
But the black
Smokey fog
Doesn't leave...

The dust
begins to settle
On top packages
Of self doubt,
Shame,
Guilt,
And worthlessness.

Then without warning
Gravity pulls me
Back
Into my body.
And in silence,
I am left,
Sifting through
What remains of me...
Shattered sorrow
Tired eyes, and
No light that I can see.

...

I am so angry
Because
The sky
Was so beautiful today.
And so was I.
But I wasn't bigger
Than the storm.

Not this time.

• Mica Light •

i pick at my skin it a desperate attempt to pull the anxiety out.
if it could ooze out every pore and tear,
maybe i wouldn’t be shaking,
fueled with the rage and fear panic attacks hold.

i pick at my body to rip at the insecurity.
scars are a sign of my fragile self image,
makeup is the mask i use to forget.
a thick black line tracing my eyelids;
a heavy layer of powder masking the blushing of my cheeks.

i pick at my mind to understand what this diagnosis means to me.
i pick and i pick and pick at every idea and thought of this hell the universe has placed me in.
i tear and rip at them until my mind is as numb as my skin.
i pick until i can pretend i can understand.

downtown is
a much newer scene than even
i thought it’d be - i was
prepared to be
a novice. i was prepared to be
out of place. and this was
nothing, i could handle these
old odd eyes, i just
wasn’t ready to feel so
dropped in.

but i’d drawn a diagram
of this situation,
a different specific

(*******.
i can’t hear myself think)

why am i surprised to feel
so dropped in
when i’ve drawn it?
drawn upon it?

why am i surprised
that a new brand new
situation feels
just the same as the new situations
of before, when i’ve
had so many
that i can picture the the sensation
of my brain?

i’ve made a series of green lines
on a yellow, lined piece
of paper.

i’ve meant to take it
to my shrink for months.
once,
i had it in my purse and
my guts, when i entered,
decided to shrink.

i said
i was fine, and the same,
and i started to drop
the pills that stole my sleep
onto the streets.

it’s helped,
and i’m surprised. and my brain
feels more awake than
any other time
in the past
three
years…
so.

to which part of town
do i go to

from here?