end of a summer

pulse at my feet
and an orange sky
in silence and solitude I remember
what happened yesterday

beautiful in all of
your self imposed toxicity
that I never let touch me

bringing me back
into the human race

I came back from the bathroom
to find you gasping for air
blue lips open eyes
feet on the floor
you OD’d on my bed

a sinking feeling Lost last
unlocked jaw open I pour air into
a body and see
your lungs rise
your chest everything
hollow
evidence that a soul exists

the cops revived you with narcan
you yelled and scratched yourself back
into consciousness
I watched with one eye open from the kitchen
with nine lives you floated
back to standing
I’m never letting you in again

Blue skies and the everyday

Judy Garland say it with the spoken word country mouth which I never fail to hold artists I never fail to hold artist I walk these empty streets back and forth white walls I walk uphill I walk uphill with a hunchback holding things all the things I see my breath and look at my reflection while walking down the hill I sit and can see blocks from here with my glasses on the dog is barking the dog is barking

26 days sober

It’s been 26 days since the heartbreak of the century
26 days since I found out what
I knew
it’s so stupid
believing that this is it
the only thing
my heart
broken or full

it happened mid-day
the dust and the light from the street filled
me leaving an empty line
a canal where my spirit is

I walked home in disbelief
Its been 26 days
a number of days helps

I’ve stopped crying in the morning
and I’ve stopped looking for your car
in retrospect this will look miniscule, amateur,
a tantrum

Diary entry 11/11

It’s Monday morning. As soon as I woke up, I used an app to meditate for 6 minutes. I thanked the light within me then stared at the light outside of me, making patterns on the wall. Before leaving the house I frantically looked for a black sharpie marker because last night I decided in order to heal, I shall deface someone’s sticker graffiti art that they had left in the bathroom of the coffeeshop that I go to. I order an Americano and go to the bathroom, sharpie sticking out of my green velvet jacket, intention is clear to everyone around. Ready to get my piece, my sense of revenge. The marker wasn’t dark enough. It left a smudged and broken heart over a portrait. Maybe I’ll have to come back with black paint, or period blood. I’m sure he’ll see it, appreciate the effort, and not think of me. After that I drove to work. Crossing the bridge where all of the leaf colors are visible.

in this house

cerulean sky light
through broken blinds
I’m moving in December
in order to forget
a ghost that has been laying on
my rug since the summer
a ghost that has been following me around
since then
a ghost that I pass in the living room
surrounded
vacant,
this thin walled house
will be soon
i’m moving to a room
with dark gray walls where
I haven’t experienced
anything
it’s a blank slate in the same town
but I keep seeing signs
from someone the remnants
of the remnants
but letting go, learning to let
go fighting to let go

in the makeup aisle

in complete despair
and under unsatisfactory life
circumstances
I hold onto a rejection
of being replaced and ignored
I find the details out later, but in the
moment there is a knowing
its hovering in my hollow gut
mistaking them for butterflies
trying to understand
why they kind of feel like butterflies
the Lights above are fluorescent
zoom back to me staring
at the pink and green mascaras
a group of kids walk by
discussing who is the strongest
and who hasn’t cried
because of a death

family

I’m trying to pinpoint
the source of my suffering
my protruding collar bones
are sensing something

my lack of appetite
as i walk on the crunchy leaves towards
the early evening autumn light
around the corner to my car, hear you say bye babe
I said bye at least
hopefully it ‘s that the last time
you’ll see me

the other day on the car ride to the grocery store
you were speaking on the phone to your mom
she asked who you’re cooking for
you made sure to not name me
I’m nonexistent transparent solely
a breath fogging the passenger seat
window

she also asked if your people
got back, as in you were cooking
for the woman you’re working for
your shoes are under her bed
I don’t believe you