- Holiday Gifts for Mental Health (2020) - December 14, 2020
- Light in the Darkest of Times: An Unquiet Mind and Ideal Love - December 5, 2020
- COVID and Other Thoughts - December 5, 2020
First of all, I have a massive, worn old journal full of my poetry that is just for me. However, yesterday I came across a little yellow notebook tucked into the back of my closet. It’s not very good, but it’s from a very important period in my life. After I emerged from my abusive relationship, I didn’t tell anyone what happened for months. However, when I became active in the dating world again, it all spilled out. These are from that tumultuous, terrible time in my life.
How do you do?
My name is human
I’m sheathed from you
Fogged up, dirty too
Victoria, Hermes scarf
Silk, that’s her sheath
I wove it back here
Draped her, a wreath
Quick, he’s coming
Hands up, voice weary
Tone soft, eyes teary
Sounds as if he’s running
Panting, pushing
Frantic and decrepit
She’s dressed, body clean,
I take what’s left of it.
—–
I just have a suspicion that
My fingertips are too blue
Waiting for the ignition
To ever be thawed
By this fireside
Further even
That they wouldn’t know how
To clasp another’s
Let alone soothe themselves
If they ever did thaw
How long has it been?
—–
The definition of insanity, or whatever it’s called
Does it go awry, that hoarded, touted thing,
When it’s yourself you have walled?
A rallying cry, a bedtime story
Not meant for clawing,
Scraping at interiors
Splash your face, double your eyes
This quote is designed for a body
Not doctor-recommended for mirrors
—–
He isn’t wrong about insanity
His words have been folded
The same dance could reel a mate
The forty fourth time
This we choose not to know
He knows
That my insanity is
Exclusively reading presidential biographies
Weeping into Lincoln’s First Inaugural
———
Sourdough bread
Promises a cozy comfort
—-> back of the freezer
(I know how I like my sandwiches)
How long has it laid?
Nearly thaws, fooled me
Teeth sink, still concealed
I don’t remember it this way
Burned
Oh well, pita in the cupboard
———
It’s quiet
All’s still
But for my toes
Dog whimpers, bed shakes
Clouds roar, feet ache
Brain reels, only fro
Thump, thump
It’s quiet
But for my toes
Painfully mindless
Madly tireless
Tonight, agony grows
Boom, boom
All’s still
But for my toes
Vessels of anguish
Mindlessly painless
But for the fear it odes
All’s still
Sprung alive
But for my toes
Penetration creeping
Girl screaming
This is just how it goes