ready

there’s this itch

I feel it in my fingers and my toes,

reverberating with every heartbeat

the urge to get up and go, to drive without destination,

to wander crumbling sidewalks until you’re so turned around you don’t know which way is up,

to visit friends and places we miss so deeply we can feel the ache in our bones;

this insatiable itch isn’t just in my body anymore,

it’s in the air, now, too

infiltrating our waking thoughts and sleeping dreams

until it is vibrating within us-

For now, we can do nothing but sit around

trying to convince our feet to stay still a little longer

as we wait

for the world to become safer

the things that we carry

I’ve been lugging around a ton of rocks.

The boulders settle solidly in my stomach and my heart,
the smaller stones weigh down my cheeks
making it impossible to smile,
and pebbles grind together under my eyes,
blocking tears that are desperate to fall;

How do I keep living
with all this wretched weight?

All I can think to do
is tear myself apart
digging with cracked fingernails
through muscle and organs and sinew
until the last offensive chip of stone
lies in a bloody puddle on the floor
and I am wholly bared, naked and free.

now I lay me down to sleep

we are all so tired

the collective exhaustion of the world
peeks through my windows every single day
wheedling its way into my body
and settling itself in my eyes and mind

we are all so tired

it’s impossible to shake, this indominable fatigue,
because we know there is a better way
we are sure it is possible to live life
without so many unnecessary struggles

we are all so tired

and even though I have faith-
in people, in the world, in the universe,
in my absolute certainty that, one day, things will be better-

there are many days I want to lay myself down
and let the morning glories in the yard overtake me,
so that my body becomes one with the earth
and my mind can finally rest.

elusion

i am not a person who cries

i watch ten hours of tv in two days
read three different series of books
write forty poems
play the same videogame for four weeks straight

i am not a person who cries

but this is a thing i can’t avoid
and the tears come at odd moments
at the sink getting water
walking to the bathroom
picking a sock up off the floor

i am not a person who cries
but nothing else is enough
to escape this