**tw's: psych ward, sh implied, talk of birth, trauma**
i can cover one eye & still see the world whole, like
some devastating party trick. where i am
both the pinata & the thing hitting it. taking up
space in places
i never even wanted to be
in / it's not leaving when you're
still following me.
tail-end of summer, i began to see
the end of it all, tail-end of summer i
fled into a devastating hope/less
of an escape / but a mere shifting of blame
i'll allow it this time
like i ever had a choice. you would have spoken in tongues & swallowed me whole. i alternate, rapid-change
from prey to predator
hurt to hunt, i am no miracle
much longer, i am no
thing
to be mocked. i know too much of
very little at all. i keep
red porcelain repeats as a sort of ticket receipt, a souvenir from the psych ward
i could not give it a
way
out, even if i wanted to end
the tale,
the walls don't whisper-hurt me here. & the
bathroom remains clean, i think,
i can't really make it out
of here, not tonight
no, not this time
wasting sprout of a life. i was a seed planted
into
a desert of a womb & then
expelled—the place was not given to me
25 years ago & again & again & again
with each turn of yourself
you find some place new to lose me but
this is a land that you cannot irrigate.
hills fused together by sloping
stories that will no longer be told, fallacies of mine
dragged by sisyphus through ruins,
some eroded boulder that chokes—
closes up throats—is that why
conversations become jagged? i
cover one eye & atlas drops the earth. i see red porcelain repeats &
a destination no more.
YOU ARE READING
body work
Poesía**for fans of plath, anne sexton & ocean vuong** 'body work' is a captivating collection of poetry that delves into the depths of human experiences, exploring the intricate relationship between the physical body & the emotional & spiritual realms. w...
