on the days that i fall into the abyss of myself,
my skin tears at the friction of regret.
self-doubt swallows me like the chalky, powdery dust
of so many pills,
taken by the handful in an effort to be full again.
anxiety has written so many poems
on the inside of my chest
in the form of tally marks
counting down the minutes
until i can breathe again.
YOU ARE READING
plethora
Randomthoughts take root in my mind like so many seeds. sprouting, germinating. cup an ovule in wet palms and see how hard it grows to reach the light. this is a collection of poems about everything and nothing at all. some of them may contain sensitive m...
