In fits and starts
It’s always the way they come to me
Sometimes pouring down and drowning my thoughts
Fixing me in just such a spot
That I’m helpless until I release them.
Pinned in place with no release
The friction causing as much tension in my body
As it does in my mind
the more I struggle the tighter the grasp
eventually I have to let go
or blackout from lack of air.
The words are only doing what they want these days.
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Yesterday my mother showed up at my door with 13 handcrafted birthday invitations in one hand and 1.75 liters of vodka in the other. The two are mostly unrelated. The invites are made from paper and glitter. Stamp and ink. She didn't write in them, but provided
As I sit quietly in my living room working I tend to listen to the sounds of home. The slight buzz and hum of my heater, the birds chirping and chattering from my high windows, the rush of cars on the street outside, and the constant chirps, pings, and trills
I remember putting some crazy things in my hair as a kid. Lemon juice, kool-aid, mayonnaise, avocado, tea, and that scalding hot oil treatment. With that last one I might as well been torturing myself with tar and feathers. Then there was the one summer I strived to find the
