and never getting up.

now is the instant
i can feel it even though i don’t know why;
and i’m
one minute off the hour.

i run on
intuition alone, this time,
and it works, thank god,
because i’ve
lost my feet in the fall.

somehow i end up on the sidewalk
in pieces
held together by cheap twine & the fact that my mind is



to the sky with my arms
losing touch with my fingers & letting
my hands crawl away.

to get lost in the clouds
would be to say i was found in the first place;
i thought i was, once,
but i was mistaken.

taken backwards through time i’d blame clock hands if i hadn’t
noticed the new lines by my eyes &
those on your forehead.

there’s a lot here, to tell,
but why waste these moments on words when
the sky can say it all;

i watch the dusk turn grey & get washed away

& for the first time in a long while
i can breathe.

early morning melacholy; it’s 1:30 but that’s good for me.

i am taking pictures
i am
taking my time
i am trying to remember the life i left
the place i used to live
i used to promise if i found my way back here
i’d find myself

but now i’m here & the world is hollow
i can speak but my voice is silent & so, why bother?

i play the same song on repeat & mourn for the girl i used to be
sometimes i get glimpses of her
hypomanic & for a minute i don’t feel like dying,
i feel like…

nope, no, nothing,
gone again, too late,
every time i get my hopes up they’re dashed on the rocks
i try to convince myself
when i find my way out of this, whatever you call this —
i will be
i’m so convinced
i even tattooed it on my back,
permanent ink but perhaps
i should have put it somewhere i could see it
because i’m starting to forget.