the things

in the wild

they get hungry,

sometimes.

i'll tell you about them.

i forget a lot of things

like how to take care of myself

my body, it’s a vessel, to me

a car.

something that i could nurture

something i could paint with new colors

something i could clean

something i could feed

something i can hurt

something i have hurt.

i forget a lot of things, you see.

and the wild things,

they eat this up

like crazy.

and when the wild things

get hungry for this,

it hurts, sometimes,

acknowledging what i've forgotten

how much i've forgotten

but they get hungry

and they'll continue this way.

but, it's alright -

i guess,

because it won't change

but where are the good things,

you ask?

well, i don't quite know.

they -

i only find them by accident -

usually when running from the wild things.

i trip,

and i fall

d

o

w

n

down, down, down,

rolling and sliding and afraid

until, finally, i am

f r e e

i have found the good things.

sometimes, i stay with them a while -

an hour,

a few hours,

a day,

a few days...

but -

sometimes -

i am with them for a week, even two.

last time i was with the good things,

i was there for a very long time -

the longest time

that i can

remember

two weeks, almost,

and it was wonderful.

but, as always, i can’t have

too many

good days

without

any bad days -

it would be

wrong.

that is when this started.

a long stream of bad days -

not terribly bad

(they almost never are)

but so many, stacked upon each other

one right after the other

until i couldn't take

feeling like a waste

of space

like i was too much

or not enough

that is when i looked

in on the wild inside

and began to stop thinking

that is when i began

this.

looking in on the wild inside,

it was scary,

at first,

but it

it was worth it,

if it made you understand.

you know,

having you here

makes it sting

a little less,

and i'm glad you're here.

i just thought i'd tell you

how much you mean to me

how you make it all better

just by

existing