trip

six months of an acid trip
life is full of revelations now
little epiphanies woven in
to my days
threads so glittering wind
through the halls and
stairwells, turning
cobwebs and dust into
pretty paper chains

“girl,” he says
looking up from the ground floor
“why are you always so
guilty?
let go of that conscience, girl”

I say fuck
I always had the words to
describe myself but
I placed them on the page like
newspaper cutouts
a ransom letter to myself
I never glued them
down, so they blew away
into the wind
and I shut my windows hoping for
sense

I sink into my trip
but I’m not in a daze anymore
not a passive witness
not a powerless princess by
the closed window willing
my hair to grow a little longer
this trip is mine now
I embrace the others
that join me
and kiss the ones that
leave me to soar

and I don’t feel
a stitch of remorse
or pain
or shame
not anymore, girl

Advertisements

threads

there is a
wall there now
I can’t see it with
my eyes but
I can feel it with
every jangled nerve

your elbow
permeates brick
and cement
to rest on mine
it is rude
and tenacious

you don’t
look at me
the way you
used to
so I wonder if
you felt it too

surely you did
I was picking
shards of cement
out of my hair
for days
on end

the hair on
my skinny forearm
stands up
to attention
soldierly
full of electricity

I look and
the golden threads
on yours
are laying flat
with no
visible disturbance

so I suppose
I won’t spend
any more time
wondering what
you dream of
when you’re alone