The mirror asks: how can this be, this bloom that became pity? Stifle, the exhale. This bloom became worry. This bloom became: yield. Willful denial of self, a smidge. Tuck the smile behind the ear and cross the legs. Here: clutches of soil. Thyme. Quiet.
I suppose I can’t really be sure whether I’m only home for a short enough time that there’s not enough time for things to blow up or whether I’ve matured enough to preserve my healthy self in a toxic environment. I hope it’s the latter. More likely, it’s a combination of both, possibly skewed towardsContinue reading “8/30/17, 10:33am”
in my chest, the lulling of the waves an ebb a nudge
I’m sitting in class taking a final and don’t know a thing, and the people by me are having a jolly conversation: it’s JC and someone else. I showed up halfway in to the final. I walk out and leave. I’m now performing in a play with KS and there comes a scene in whichContinue reading “dream journal 05/17/17”
Fading street lights. Lights being intermittently obscured by buildings, trees. Christmas lights. Why is the city twinkling? Whoa! WhoOOOAAAh… A baby giggles as the plane lands roughly. Atlanta, Georgia. Almost home. The toddler in front of my pops over the seat and peers at me. “Hi!” I giggle. She giggles right on back.