There is so much more & I'm trying to think about less.

 I am more forgetful every day. I am sorry if I haven't thought of you lately. My usual obsessions distract me from real sentiments and my ideals, even.

I am not very attuned or focused. And even though there is thick congestion of chemicals and other thoughts building up in my head, I'm trying to sort it.

Be patient.

breathing, again.

I and me-- inside. I still hear crying.

I think of you one way, this way, another way.
The fault lines do not match.
And I jump from ledge to slippery ledge, unable to consolidate.

-- my days. I am dulled and slow and adept and rich.
Trying to appreciate.

I am not safe.

Dear Jordan,

This is what I would have talked about yesterday had I had greater verbal facility.

I am tongue-tied and have never jumped the disfluency hurdle. I was a mute for half of the day-- pronouncing no more than three words correctly in a sentence. If my words were heard by a synesthetic, I imagine hues of pitiful blues and a deepened, rough ( Read more... )

I cannot capture as well as you do.
But come play. Come. Play along. A little longer
might do me some harm. And the most minute of trauma
harms the subconscious. You should be able to see the twitching, hand shaking, biting when appropriate.
If I do it well, you should feel it, too. Come, come play.

It's a sort of swelling. Transposed.
A twitch, an inaudible utterance, spasms into vigorous scratching.
Crawling under an encasement of skin.

I hadn't been to the dentist in over four years although looking back, it felt like ten years of sodas, high fructose corn syrup, processed foods and general oral negligence until the gentle dental assistant reminded me. These assistants were new to me and I did not know what to expect of their three-inch acrylic nails and brown lip-liner. I was ( Read more... )