escape/ 65

So you kiss the boy and you stop

thinking about drowning, stop

overthinking for a split second,

but then he touches your waist

and suddenly you’re aware of how

big it is, how wide is is, how even

though he’s kissing you, he 

still thinks you’re fat, how even

though you’re kissing him, you

still think you’re fat, but then his

hand moves higher and your

mind is an old television set, 

your thoughts are being 

scrambled- all you can hear

is static, so you kiss him, and

you forget about shrinking for

a while and expand in his arms,

until you’re almost a world, 

until you’re almost a girl not

afraid of her own body, of 

her own mind, but it never

lasts; you used the boy as 

an escape route, as a panic 

room, as a sign that things 

don’t always have to be

twisted, but the boy always

has to leave, and you always

have to return to reality- that’s

the thing about escape, it

never lasts forever, that’s the 

thing about the boy; you can 

kiss him now but what happens

when he leaves and you 

still want to shrink? That’s the

thing about running away, 

somehow, you always end up

back where you started.

seasons/ 64

It’s the middle of summer now, 

but nothing has changed, I 

attend funerals like they’re 

parties, receive bad news like

they’re just the rent I pay for 

living, look cancer in the face 

and then look away- being alive

isn’t as much fun when you 

know what awaits you at the

end, being alive isn’t as much

fun when all the people you

know are on the other side of 

the grave, it’s the middle of

the summer now, and the

sun glares at the earth with a

passion everyone feels, the 

scorching heat hits my back, 

burns me to shreds, but nothing

has changed- no matter what 

season it is, I’m still burying the

dead, still unable to move on.

habit/ 63

There’s this habit that 

follows me all day long, watches

me trip over my own tongue

till the only words that

can be heard are the ones I’m

regurgitating from the past, 

you see, I’ve always had

trouble adapting so sometimes

I just dont, I just carry 

home around till nostalgia is

is a noose around my foolish

neck, you see, I turned longing

into a lifestyle and now I’m 

stuck in a rendition of a past

I’m ready to forget, but 

there’s this habit that 

follows me all day long, and

I don’t think I’m strong enough

to ask it to leave, don’t think

I’m strong enough to

douse it in gasoline, don’t

think I’m strong enough

to leave it in the past.

existing/ 62

Sometimes existing feels like/ holding my own head under water/ trying to breathe/ but/ drowning instead/ sometimes/ existing feels like choosing to be shot at/ when/ I could have just swallowed some pills/  sometimes/ existing just seems like/ the harder option

high tide panic/ 61

I’m sick of my mind, sick of

its inability to let me live, sick of

the worry that envelopes it, the

panic that chains it, I’m sick 

of me, sick of dreaming of

cutting myself, sick of trying

to make myself smaller, sick

of shaking hands and a 

good for nothing body, I’m sick

of this life, it fits like a shirt 

that shrunk in the wash, which

is to say, I can’t fit into it 

without ripping it, and so I’m 

sick of it, sick of calling myself

a poet but being unable to 

write, sick of trying to be good

at things, and failing, I’m sick

of thinking so much. All I 

want is for my mind to fall silent,

for the incessant demons to 

cease their talk for a minute,

all I want is to be able to breathe

without feeling like I’m drowning.

All I want is to feel calm, instead

all I feel is high tide panic, all

I see are the waves, preparing

to overwhelm me.

reminder/ 60

I’ve lost count now, lost count

of the number of times I’ve looked

at you and smiled, of the number

of times you said something

and my heart dropped seven

stories down, lost count of

how many times I’ve wanted to

kiss you, wanted to hold you,

wanted to be near you, guess

this love is no longer quantifiable,

and that’s okay, because even

as the numbers elude me,

you stay- In my head, memories

with you bloom so often now,

it feels like spring even in this

parched weather, and I guess 

that’s how I feel about you, like

you’re a pleasant reminder that

this life, this life is not all bad.

metaphors/ 59

So a pair of too tight jeans fit

me perfectly now, and I see it 

as a metaphor for growth. 

See it as a metaphor for

evolution, when truly it’s just 

me going backwards, me

shrinking, me falling into 

a pattern that’s more dangerous

than I even know. Guess it’s

a metaphor for being unhealthy, but

my butterfly body doesn’t care,

it’s too afraid to fly so it lets

it’s wings droop, frail from 

disuse, and I don’t eat- let 

this be a metaphor for peeling

away my skin like I’m a fruit, for

shaving my soul just to make it

weigh a little less, let this be 

a metaphor for fading away.

30 of 30!!/ today/ 58

This day ends with the quiet

dignity of time spent well, it

fades into the blackness of

my memories from where it’ll

soon disappear, and the 

excitement I’ve felt today will

soon evaporate in this 

summer heat, replaced with the

weariness of a life lived too long, 

but it doesn’t matter because

even when this day is forgotten,

it will still have existed, even

when I fade into obscurity, 

no one will be able to take away 

who I was, because the truth is

human beings fiddle with the

future like it’s a toy, they tie 

Destiny’s hands together and

call their own shots, but

no matter how much they

try, the past is just not as

malleable, so even though they

have taken away my future, 

they’ll never take away my past.

28 of 30/ sleep/ 56

sleep beckons me like a siren,

I hear it’s call everywhere I go

pulling my weary body towards it,

it never stops, so now it’s just

another daily noise I’m 

accustomed to, another 

disappointed murmur I’ve learnt to 

ignore, because as much as I 

want to succumb to it’s lullaby,

I have things to do, places to be,

this world doesn’t stop for

mental health, this world doesn’t

stop for physical health, this world

doesnt stop for nothing. 

So when sleep calls to me, I ignore

it, adding it to the long list

of things I was to afraid to confront,

you see, the worst thing about sleep

isn’t what you’re missing out on,

it’s what you’re not, it’s what is

present in the dark, waiting for you.