Punch Drunk

Moments of suspense

Of holding your breath

And then intaking that gasping

Shudder of air

Its sound reminiscint 

Of a death rattle

Undone

My twine

Is starting 

To fray 

And soon 

It will snap

And I will 

Come undone

Escape Artists

At times

I can feel 

My secrets

Bubbling

Behind my lips

I bite them in half

And swallow them 

Because 

If they escape

Whole

I lose 

Seedling

My thoughts are not my feelings

And my feelings rarely transform into thoughts,

The synapses between those two 

Seem to all be severed and cauterized.

But if a forest seedling can grow out of a rotted stump

Then I see no reason 

That I should fail 

Time

So many changes

In such a small window

You ask me how I feel 

But how am I supposed to know?

I need time

Space

Days

To process it all 

I am the opposite of impulsive

Thoughtful

So much so

That I drown 

Written 7/22/19

Awake

Tick, tick, tick, tick

The rhythmic tocks echo

Off the insides of my skull

1, 2, 3, 4....

Until I reach 60

1 minute

Until I reach 60

1 hour

Until I reach 24

1 day 

Until I read 12,410

34 years

Awake 

Written 7/22/19

Red

Satin red

Swirling

With long strands

Of blonde

Bubbles turn from blue

To vicious red

With long strands

Of brown

Written 7/22/19

Implode

These people won’t shut up. 

Their lips keep moving

Sounds escape 

At least I think they form sounds...

I wonder how they keep coming up

With more words

When they never pause

To think. 

I wonder if they even know

What they’re saying

Or if they just like the feeling

Of the vibration in their throats. 

Sometimes I hold my mouth shut

For so long

That I think my lips 

May have sewn themselves together

And when it comes time for me to speak

I don’t know if I’ll be able to

Don’t know if my mouth will work

Or if my mind

Will come up with the words

That they want to hear

Or if I will simply

Spit out the brutal truth

Leaving scorch marks in its wake. 

Sometimes I never shut the fuck up

Because I’m afraid if I stop

That I’ll have to think

And if I have to think

Then I might

Implode. 

Written 8/12/19 

Distortion

My mind works in images

Often clear and concise

In those moments 

I am rarely wrong.

Sometimes the images get distorted

In those times

I am rarely right. 

Light

I’ve lived in the shadows

For so long

That the light not only blinds

It burns

I’ve stayed alive in the darkness

Thus far

That I’ve forgotten what it feels like

To see

I’ve been down here so long

That I’ve become unrecognizable 

And I don’t know

If I can survive 

The light 

Turning

You picked me up

Flipped me upside down

And shook me 

Until all the pieces I held 

Came flying out, unhinged

We watched it all tumble around 

In strange shapes 

That never really fit together anyway