Losing my Ability to Write

I’m scared of losing my ability to write

Like the way essays seem to escape me right before i have an idea

My fingers smell like vomit because i tried to catch my insides

Before they fell out

I think that when i look at the sky i don’t feel small

I just feel tired

I turn music up because that way i don’t have to hear the noises around me

I don’t think anyone understands anybody

And when they do they murder them

Like psychological serial killers who know people too well

Or maybe they kill in order to obtain the only good qualities people have

Sometimes i paint

But never to make anything only to feel the paint under my fingers

Like eruptions of colors that seem to know exactly what to say to me

My ears hurt from having the headphones on too long

But if i take them off i hear the carooning voices of those i don’t know

So i suffer in silence and turn the music up to drown the pain

My skin is soft according to everyone

But i don’t understand that because it feels to me that my skin is made of

Potholes

Craters so significant that they scream to be filled in

I think i am scared of living because you’re in it

That forever is beautiful but we don’t have forever we only have now

The music is so loud that my head is going to explode

My leg is shaking so much that it will fall off

Maybe then someone will believe my pain is on the outside as well as inside

When he holds my hand it feels like a net in case i fall off the tightrope

I’m scared to lose my ability to write

I think that the day i lose my ability to write is the day that i die

Because how else can i possibly describe what i see and hear

How will i document the world i live when there’s no way for me to put it down

The room is orange because it can be

It smells like the vomit on my hands and candles

The shirts the employees wear are the colors i will never get to see

And maybe writing is like that

Success that can never be obtained

Maybe he’s like that

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

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