Sunday, April 26, 2020

content warning: self harm

without all the chemicals
(and just the right ones)
I am not a person.

and the zipper broke;
and the bottles,
orange and blue, rattled loose
and away
and I did not notice
because I was nervous.

and I am not person
just a void.
where a person should be

or I am sometimes a pacing thing
more animal than girl
clenched teeth have pressed
furrows into their match
how did that lighter, excellent fist pack,
make it to my hand

and I imagine again and again my violent death and again
sometimes silent scream

and I imagine the blood,
like a pleasant stream, exit me
in calm dark place somewhere.

I try to remember Aurelius.
I can't ask for help, my voice dies
from time to time.
So i try to remember
his oh so pretty thoughts,
specifically on the scale of things.
and that and connections to folx
but sometimes I can't remember

and so far I've remembered Aurelius
and the vast, nihilistic, beautiful scale of things
has, so far, been enough, to keep blood in my veins

because the size of the universe
is inside me, from time to time,
it's the only thing holding me together

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