december first and third // STILL MY HUMMINGBIRD WINGS // nobody notices (it’s okay, right?)
i.
clouded vision,
spilling back through
pasts and presents,
dripping insanity
like tocks and ticks
of burnt-out clocks
ii.
overloaded,
overwhelmed,
i cannot count
iii.
breathless
beats
(count in time)
(make music with your lungs)
(or we’ll split open your chest)
(and play your ribs like a xylophone)
iv.
pulsing, breaking,
i cannot—breathe?
v.
pressed close, i am; every stall, every pause,
every broken, pulsing, heavy, anxious breath,
crushed from my accordion lungs
vi.
STILL, STILL, PLEASE STILL
MY HUMMINGBIRD WINGS
vii.
i am okay?
AM I? AM I?
viii.
pulled close, i am
blazing vessel
birthing burning melancholia
ix.
i am very tired—eyes closing
long against burning blue
blazing horizon that is the sky
x.
she pulses like
flaming pink
gem nested in the sky
xi.
cradle separate self into broken arms,
ask for clarity
xii.
soak up sun,
burn bright against
the empty night
(evidently)
xiii.
cautious steps
harboring all these
heavy thoughts—
xiv.
heavy, ANXIOUS,
EMPTY THOUGHTS
xv.
ROARING LUNGS
PLEAD FOR AIR
(PULSE? BREATHE?)
xvi.
pressing, rushing river
of juxtapositions squared,
and
i am pulled beneath the current,
held beneath the rough river fingers
against the boulders that lay,
nesting themselves into
the timeless river banks
xvii.
escaping selves to nest
in the spaces between
other people’s ribs—
xviii.
nobody notices—
(that’s okay, right?)
existence twisting
thorny vines ’round
my bruised and bloodied
form—
(that’s okay, right?)
(IT’S OKAY, RIGHT?)
xix.
can i be stronger than this?
should i try to be?
should i find some help—
or should i be made to
suffer through it all?
xx.
no one notices—
is this alright?
should i make myself
so terribly known?
xxi.
—i’m so sorry for ruining it all—
i’m so sorry—