“what has changed since everything?”

at a glance,
very little.
my room is still
a messy grave.
i am still just surviving,
the way i was before.
but i have overcome
in this process
of becoming.
there is no more pretense
for who i must be.
no tether to
an overidealized self.
it’s scary, daunting-
but i am not alone.
i never was,
despite what i
was made to feel.
what fear was
hammered into me.
not
anymore.
since everything-

                          Everything has changed.

sometimes everything just
pools in the back of your throat
feeling like you could drown in
whatever emotion
****** at your eyes,
threatens to drop into your lungs

cold and tingling under the ear
behind the jaw
in a place not often thought of
in the day-to-day

sometimes
we have no words
for the things that happen
to us
sometimes words
are all we have

often
It’s a messy helping
of both-
words we can’t speak
feelings only conveyed
by screaming from
rooftops

messy
is key, here
this is never a clean process.
(regardless of what we crave and
wish and want)
few mops could properly
soak it all up

a sponge is none the wiser
sitting on the lip of
an overflowing sink

it can only do so much
to soak up what it can before it is
oversaturated
overstimulated
falling in the flow of water
as it tips over that lip-
careening over the edge,
full to the brim,
with nothing left to do
but fall.