a bundle

Alone for a while with myself.
My body feels like it is empty.
I’m too weak and fragile to go on.

I need someone to feed me and to push my hair back.
I’m looking for a love.
I’m looking for love and nurture to
come towards me in full force.
But maybe I just have to give
it to someone else
then I’ll be able to feel it
give it to feel it

I’m trying to figure out the world
but there is no key
just Bob Dylan singing out of key
about his lack of friends
and that at least he has his voice
and guitar. I get that at least I have my voice
within all of the changes
that I entangle myself in.

It all hurts.
I thought had been cured with CBD, but it all hurts.
I feel like branches
holding up a teal dress.
Or like a ghost
who does the same routine
a ghost with ocd walking the streets
looking for a ghost friend from the past.
What can fill this void.
Who can fill this void.
Maybe having a child.
But that would require someone to have one with.
That would require this
that There is so much it feels that I don’t have.
Or maybe I’m just not being grateful.
I have friendships. I have life.

I have an ego that has been wounded.
Specifically when he chose
everyone over me and had failed to tell me.
I had to dig the truth
and hurt myself.
I’m waiting for an apology
that’s not going to come.
I’m waiting for my love and all of the dogs
to come back to me.
I’m still grieving several almost deaths.

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