writings

to be added to whenever i feel like writing.

1/18/2023

i feel like i am plagued every time i wake up in the morning.

i feel as if my knees are going to snap under the weight.

not of my body or mind, but my inherence of being.

i mean nothing and everything.

i think too much, but not about what plagues me in my daily life.

i ignore it while it builds a home under my skin and muscle.

it cracks and bends over my spine, threatening to rip out and snap me in half.

i feel as if my suffrage makes me immature.

i don't think i ever had the chance to become anything more than a pretentious man, writing drafts in a notebook.

yet, it suits me.

writing suits me the way a little girl dresses in her mother's makeup and pearls.

i try to preform but to no avail, shouting and slamming into a brick wall.

i am a mockery and caricature of writers, poets, and artists around the world.

but this form is all i know and have.

it's all i can do to make the pain bearable.

8/20/2024

i see a door, tall and skinny.

it splinters like a cactus when i touch it.

the old paint and wood cracks and breaks off like dead skin.

large chunks of birch with liquid seeping.

instead of the fluid, however, it's just dry paint that seeps into the cracks.

it's not a fresh coat of blood, or acrylic, or wood stain.

i've never seen beyond it.

i'm not scared of what's behind it.

i don't need to be strong enough to face it.

i can walk through the clean, sleek door behind me.

i don't have to worry about it hurting me.

the door has not come for me yet.

everything is fine here on earth.

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