angelineluz

you can be happy

have you tried

if only it were that simple.

those words roll off your tongue without any caving weight or substance

seamlessly, easily, unknowingly

your pretty mouth hasn’t been touched or tainted

i hope you never know more.

but the burden doesn't like structure

it salivates at the smell of my dried blood and sings to the clicking of time

i hand you the most honest story i can, i try to sing you to sleep

(my burden is all i know)

but you look into my eyes, seeing nothing behind mine,

you look at the grisly claw marks all over my weak, ending body

and tell me. to try. try. harder.

as much as i claw at myself, disorder will never leave

(it promised me)

it isn't logical. but, biochemically, maybe we can begin to understand.

its more terminology to memorize but almost simpler to explain that it’s just a depletion of the neurotransmitters

1. serotonin

2. norepinephrine

3. dopamine

i’ve been blessed!

lucky enough that my very own temporary, inanimate, limp body has been chosen to experience in the absence of them.

chemicals are logic, they are vessels, symbols, quintessential beings of fact and concrete and trial that exist inside of me and you,

but what they represent — or, what the loss of them represents,

it ruins. and it chews. without reason. dissipates balance.

on the chosen men and women and children and on me.

it pulls my limbs inward towards the earths core unforgivingly, as if waiting for the pressure

to make my knees buckle

give in to the sediment underneath everything ive ever known

give in to the warmth below

its easier to give in

it would be easier to sink

1. click. 2. inhale 3. gone.

but i dont. i stay. i sit. and wait. to be lifted. wait for this waning to end

so ill straighten my spine

using every bone and vein and muscle and artery

in my body. to stay above.

one day in august, mom took us to the water

and i ran like i could suspend air beneath my feet

the burns on my skin meant there was a sun above me

at one point in the string of time, every day felt like that

as little as i remember it, sometimes

i can feel it lingering

inside my hands when i pinch my dads cheeks

inside my hair when mom braids

in my feet when i tiptoe down the creek

in my eyes when i look into the sun

but two growling, terrified hands skulk inside my ribs

my carelessness, my hope,

my naivety, my ignorance, my belief that im worthy or that im special and deserving of feeling air embrace my lungs

the two hands hold it all, tightly, as if it were a bomb as fluid as water

if i had the energy to move my limbs, maybe i could be incredible for you.

and for myself. maybe i’d defy nature. or build something big.

maybe i’d feel good enough. i could taste beba’s food again. i could feel grass between my toes.

i could feel human again. i could make a joke. or ice skate or argue with you about music.

maybe if i had the energy i could be something more than it

i could. sing a better story to you. maybe even love something.

i would spend my dying days trying to lasso the sky

if it meant it wouldn’t hurt to breathe anymore

even if for just a day