not even death has to be a disaster
death can just be an illusory smell
that stays in the nostrils weeks after
something traumatic happens to your body
an unexplainable wrench
no one will understand when
you ask ‘do you smell that decay’
but then you remember a time that
where you had your face pressed
up to death
non happenings stick
quarantine has dismantled time
the space between life and death
has now become the
infinite version of it still
we all feel it
we’ve all been bashed inside
stay soft yet strong
let that radiate from your
made me no
made me crazy
now I distance myself
from people like me
women like me
who say innocent
things in order to be dismissed
numb the trauma
numb the trauma don’t rehash
it hide it, but numb it
don’t let it show
don’t , it only makes people feel bad
for the state of society
we only feel this pain and then
I only have time to creep on
social media I only
have time to stare at someone
from my past
my adult life, my twenties
can be summed up to what
I woke up at 9am with the November sun
beaming through broken white blinds
I layed in bed thinking about where
it went wrong
I forced myself to journal three morning
pages they always seem
to be about me missing someone
then I went to the clinic because
HPV was a concern
turns out it’s just a skin irritation
the doctor reported this to
me with so much joy
I kept that joy for a few hours
after I left
then I shoved peanut butter cups
in my mouth while silently
color coding a rack of long sleeve
shirts thinking about my place
in capitalism thinking about
the fall of capitalism
feeling the band aid from the blood
that i had drawn earlier suffocate
the crevice of my arm
I got home showered and then
ripped an inch of my skin off
while taking it off
I go to bed
don’t worry a tangerine smell is around the corner,
you might have left it there, that
along with the sunshine, the creek,
and the picnic you had packed for the two of you
The food, well the food, it’s been 20 years
what remains is dust
and it’s stinging your eyes
We sit by the ocean
while eating grapefruit,
through white windows
A tea party is automatically nostalgic
lip biting returns while diving further into the future, adulthood
and whatever that means,
The painting by the ocean is prettier
than the others
due to the salt, and its healing properties
I am in the air,
planning something for a future moment
three weeks from now
that might end up being too late when executed
That sheet of metal that you have installed as a roof
isn’t preventing you from drowning.
The sun cannot reach you,
your head is dry,
suffocating the sprout.
the month of the soul.
I can feel the change and introspection happen
within the melancholy earth colors.
This time last year I was almost in the same state of mind.
Wanting to grow,
but following a blueprint
of what others have found successful.
The true blueprint I should follow is
the one of the trees.
Let the baggage fall.
Being in Florida for more than a week,
is for the weak.
There is a reason people come here to die.
As if there is nothing else to work for,
but to retire and become
a rendition of
the old man and the sea.
The lonely fishermen sitting
in front of the open
Having no future plans,
truly, isn’t as scary
as some people
make it out to be.
I may be homeless
or jobless at some point,
but working a 9 to 5 that I hate
would be worse.
At least there is a certain passion to this
Even if I have a secured job after I graduate,
still wouldn’t bring me the sense of security
The only certain thing
So I should work on myself, right?
Perhaps we are all working on ourselves by making future plans.
As in to not commit suicide.
Future plans require
a certain presence
suicide would get in the way of.
It is the last day of February
and I am lacking inspiration.
Months seem to go by
with no trace of productivity.
What should I do?
I should take on a new perspective.
A fresh one.
One free of insecurities and worries.
Let go of all of the thoughts
that don’t serve me anymore.
And there are many.
Isn’t terrible how people fall in love,
unreciprocated is the best kind.
Next month, I will be more productive.
the hoped for,
Have you ever noticed the way people can spot an artist
from a far.
Is it the dress?
or in the cool graceful manner
that they carry themselves,
articulate steps with a
I’m over this attitude
The coolest older couple just walked in
The woman is wearing a tie dye blouse and a long skirt
which is belted at the waist
The man is wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans
and Rayban sunglasses
Their outfits compliment each other
I could stare at ‘artists’ all day
the energy they give off
is fresh, and intelligent
Actually, this is where I get my inspiration,
the people that I look up to
the people who go to art galleries
the people who listen to jazz
the people who decorate their homes with art