I have holes in my head where my eye sockets should be. I've sunk deep before, but this time it's scary. Black pits transposed from my stomach to my throat, to my eyes. I am starting to realize that I am the cat being eaten by crows on the side of the highway in Puerto Rico. I am the foot that fell into a fire ants nest. I am a scream in the night after sitting on a termite ridden log. I won't last here long. I am the nightmare after the bad trip. I AM the bad trip. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this. I am sunken hollow bones; I have starved more in this moment than when I was subsisting on one slice of bread with peanut butter on it. I am more frightened than surviving hurricane Fiona in an abandoned hotel. Hell, I am the asbestos tiles I was sleeping on; wondering why my calls aren't going through. At this point, I wish the surge that came up over the road took me out with it. Fine I'll say it!
—Im tired of living a life that's just not worth living.
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Collected Poems: Vol. I
PoetryThis is the debut collection of poems by poet Sasha Lynn Wallace. Volume I explores and dissects their personal experiences regarding: love, joy, spirituality, heartbreak, & trauma. Poems from 2018-2023
