I can't believe it's so late.
On my phone,
I can't believe this might end.
My life is in pieces,
Attempting to create,
But how can I focus when I can barely breathe.
My eyes slowly shutting,
I haven't brushed my teeth.
So I stand up and go.
No sleep for me.
Soon I find that it's 8,
and my day has begun.
It's 5:15 am :) great. I have to go somewhere at 10 am today...
I feel myself circling the truth
narrowing in on the target
spitting and spewing excuses
like darts ruining a blameless wall
I've never been good enough
I feel like a remote.
A tiny remote in the hands of a giant
Toggling through channels
Accidentally pressing every other button than the intended
I have no control
I have lost sense of where I am in space
I am helpless
Vulnerable to the choices of the giant
Constantly fluctuating between states of fear
Never knowing when each state will change
Never knowing how long I will have peace
Before the fear arises
I am just a tiny remote
In the hands of a giant.
Currently battling feelings of trauma sneaking up and hijacking my peace of mind.
she hides who she really is
under pretenses of laughter and joy
her thoughts spiraling
as she gets colder and colder
quieter and quieter
thinner and thinner
until all that remains is a gaunt shadow
of what they thought she was
she slowly starts to disappear
as sun turns to fallen leaves and fallen leaves to snow
they start to not notice her anymore
start to forget
the one who once brought in so much life
is now just existing, barely living
trying to hold on as
it becomes a struggle just to wake up in the morning
to bring the fork to her mouth
to leave the house
as she becomes
smaller and smaller
her thoughts withering her away
until there is nothing left
It’s hard to be your own person,
to move your singular body in its own direction,
when every corner is already crowded by other thoughts.
Your limbs brimming with self-loathing again, brilliant.
Bubbles of spit boasting as they frame your thirsty lips.
You’re picking blood-stained fingernails with yellowing teeth that never knew the curling cradle of a smile.
At a loss for embrace,
Fake hair plastered by stained sweat to your forehead.
There, in the hollows of your forehead, permanent lines appear prematurely, paving the way for the end of your rabbit hole, spiraling.
Head so full of heavy thoughts that your necks snaps.
When you come to my thoughts
You are none other than the billowy embodiment of a reminiscent memory
and also a current everlasting longing
You are the memory of a being or idea
one can feel and remember vividly
but can not zero in on,
for you are the intangible
the winding wind
You are those spiraling twines that place intermittent along grapevines
You are the ancient scrolls from wise days before paperback
You are the spin in the reaching center of a handcrafted wreath
And within all these
individualities and collective,
Lies your scent comprised of multiple scents
You are the mighty togetherness
Your arrival to earth escaping from birth
gave these words to the minds of the kind
You are the winding wind who spins and twines, wreathes and scrolls who lands from time to time and when you do drop for a spell
This location of harboring landfall
is a day of new tradition,
the first step you take on new land on that new day
Becomes the origin of a new holiday
In my thoughts you are the mortar of the earth
Alice! You’re falling down the rabbit hole!
Losing yourself whole.
All of your free time spent,
Chasing this descent.
You named this place 'Wonderland'
You think it is so grand
Just remember dear,
We're all mad here!
And she is spiraling
faster and faster
and the longer it lasts
the more she knows she’s falling down
and the less she can do to stop it-
-the less I can do to stop it.
Down the rabbit hole I go
Spiraling and falling,
I can't see the ground below
So many wonders and mysteries
This place, my Wonderland,
But lurking are the ghosts of an unwanted history.
To be honest
I can feel myself slipping,
I barely slept at all last night,
I didn’t take my B12 today,
And tomorrow doesn’t look much better
I’m slipping, spiraling, sprawling
and I don’t think anyone notices
Or would really care
I’m not a poet
Nor do I want to be
But my heart is torn,
My mind a disaster
I’ve fallen farther than Alice
And I don’t care
that no one cares
I know I’m falling,
And I’m not trying to stop
I rather like it