2017
i learned to forget what
my voice sounds like through gritted teeth
i grind them, still, at night
my habits melt like leather
off a cow’s back
my nails are
bloodied, still
and i wish i could say
it’s from the work i do
rather than the thoughts i
harvest
gardens filled with worries
i have not learned
the art of forgiveness
or how to shut off the projections
i play on repeat
of all the things i feel
onto all the people i claim to love
but i haven’t learned what that is
either.
i swallowed some pills this year
that helped me feel less
like a lost wanderer in my own mind
rather, a curious explorer
the difference has been grand
however
my jaw still locks when i’m
under pressure
and each morning when i wake up i feel as though i’m
unbecoming myself. Shedding skin
as i tear away these garments on my limbs
i’ve begun to feel as though i’m no longer small