Plays are good acting
It's just the bridge
Where moonlight suffices
An expectant disease
This a tool
A trumpet with no tusk
From my open mouth
I try to bite down
But they force their way out
Coiled in my stomach
Slumbering in my core
I house reptilian parasites
And faint to the floor
Another poem found in my sketchbook that I didn’t initially post.
I am a passenger
In my own body.
On a beautiful day
Until my heart begins to race
But still I’m exhausted.
Lay down on the floor
Feet up in the sky
Get blood to my brain
And continue on with my night.
An engulfing weight
Holding me tight
Pushing me farther
From consciousness’ light
I can hear you, yes.
All that comes out is a breath.
And then again,
I’m drifting away.
I can hear everything they say.
“Open your eyes”
They flutter, sight blocked
I can not
My vision is spotty
A passenger in my body.
The light dances on the sea’s waves like those little skater bugs that hop on a pond. The jitter of tiny lights reminds me of a time that I was fainting; the same specks of glitter shimmering in front of my eyes as I tumbled onto the bed in a cold sweat, mother at my side with a damp, white flannel. But now, as I watch the same twinkling flashes surfing the tide, in the warmth of the sun, they seem not to be as intimidating.
I stand up and feel myself grow
so I just sit there and wait for it to
But as I sit there, I feel
My ability to comprehend and think
I sit, accepting what will happen,
So sometimes I get head rushes, and they usually make me faint. It can be really scary, because I either faint or just lose consciousness, which I say are two different things because when i "lose consciousness," I move and do something without thinking about it, and without being able to see anything, then I wake up and don't remember what I was doing.
I took a step into my pained world
and notice everything has swirled
The buildings standing sternly now,
seem to be upside down
The blackness grows through my vision,
and everything misses precision
It seems everything is in slow motion
and I swear I can smell the ocean
I collapse into the ground,
and I notice my head starts to pound
I feel tears stream down my face,
I close my eyes and everything erased.
i had a headache when i walked
into class and even though you were
at the opposite end of the classroom, it
felt as though glass was
crushing against the back of my
skull and there were spots of black and
blue and bruises in my eyes and i
couldn't feel anything but the
bile in my throat, not even my
lungs could tell if i was
when i fell into
the darkness which people often call the
pseudonym of "passing out" and my
instructor shook me awake, pulling me
from the depths of the unfeeling
(and how i longed to remain there),
i couldn't answer the question of
"why" and simply stated the cause
to be dehydration instead of panic.
you attempted to make eye contact with me
whilst people had me ingest water
against the currents of the bile
and i just can't look at you
without succumbing to all things
you might've read about panic
disorders and ptsd and lonely
women and sometimes
there's this wound nestled in my
chest and it refuses to heal properly
because you make me feel loneliness
in the worst of ways.
i don't want this. i don't need
you. i never did.
get away from me get away from me get away *get away*
My breathing's wrong.
This pattern inside me
isn't my rhythm.
You've got all the control
& I'm programmed to rise & fall
just from a single phrase of yours
I wish I could even try
to get this heart to knock on rib doors
build some courage up
whisper truths between the
sliver membranes so I can
try & balance out the breathing
and get a grip on reality
cause I'm almost outta that conscious-land
& I don't know
he keeps bringing me to hell & heaven...
with just his text.
— The End —