i keep my wings clippedso that i cannot fly away i keep a hand over my mouthso that my words can’t be heard i keep a shadow in my brainto suffocate my thoughts and who has wrought these chainsthat keep me in my place? this is fear: that i will try and failand so i…
Category: Creative
I Don’t Know What To Wear Today
I don’t know what to wear today. Sometimes I think about wearing a dress, long and flowing and covered with flowers. Wisterias, perhaps, to match my nails. Or lavender, or purple hyacinths. But then a voice inside says: “What a joke. You’re a joke. You don’t have the body for a dress like that. You’re…
Big Boned
My father insisted: “I’m not fat, I’m big-boned.” And though his Buddha belly strained at his clothing, it was true that his frame took up the whole of the room. He was not just six foot four. His rectangle was a door frame, and his voice was a thundercloud moving through the air. I do…
my dreams cower
my dreams cower at the edges of my waking mindhaving rudely stormed my brain for another night i try to catch a glimpse of one, or another,shiniing my flashlight in the corner of the roombut they recoil and slither and shimmy maybe the light will bounce off one as it dodges awaybut all i see…
i’m masking
i’m maskingi’m asking youto help me quietthe voices inside my headthat tell methat i can’t this fearthis spherearound meis a poisonous cocoonits safety comesat the costof slow suffocation a part aparthas come togetherto gatherthe pieces of my selfand leave me pronealonefragileisolatedabandoned until there is no more youto pull me out ofthis suffocating fear 03.22.22
The Dream of the Canoe
Last night I had a dream. In the relevant part of the dream, I was walking along a river where I was supposed to meet my father. My older brother had arranged for us to ride down the river in a canoe carved from a single tree trunk by an indigenous elder. Every year, they…
pebble
later that night,after the moon had hidden behind the clouds,i found myself on the sidewalkoutside your house i picked up a small rockand thought about throwing itagainst your windowto wake you up but i was afraid i would breakthe glass so instead i held the pebble in my handand thought of you 01.09.22
Watcher
(Written in 1997) This was not the first time he had been there, by any call. Steve had been there on many occasions, his back pressed against the cold concrete, his breathing short, the last rays of the dying sunlight peering through a small greasy hole in the window. This was not the first time,…
You Can’t Repair What Was Never Broken
you told me i was brokenbecause i didn’t actthe way you wantedand i didn’t thinkthe way you wantedand i believed you i told myself to follow the rulesto color within the linesto keep the voices insideinsidewhere other people couldn’t hear them so people wouldn’t think i was brokenbecause i didn’t actthe way they wantedand i…
Don’t Talk To Me
Don’t talk to me. Talking is too easy.Mouths flowing with empty words:How are you?The weather turned cold.Do you have any plans this weekend?What do you do for a living? You don’t really care what I say.These are just mortar to fill the empty spacesso the silence doesn’t strangle us. How are you?If I answer honestlywhen…