How my fan blows my long blinds at night
They reveal peeks of artificial light in waves
Their light on my wall looks like a set of piano keys carried by the wind
They sing me her lullabies
A synthesia of notes only heard in my unquiet mind
They drown out the loudest thoughts of myself
It could be worse, but nonetheless they are pesky, relentless flies
Hovering over the deadest parts of my brain
Like rotting, I hoard every evidence of the past I can
My younger self wilts beneath it all
I've gotten used to the broken record of remembering
The past feeds on my future in a parasitic frenzy
It eats up my life until I am exposed and raw
Until it is all I see
YOU ARE READING
18 Years of God Damn Bullshit: A Memoir
Non-FictionPoems and stories from my chaotic life because I love to trauma dump with sexy words. Be kind, and enjoy <3
