Sunday, January 22, 2017

mine

Rainy days without the haze of how others wished me to be
A pot on the stove and a coat at the door
So many gifts I could forever cherish
Finally feeling healthy miles away
An idea of my independence
So I reach for my phone to send you a message
But this time I will honor as mine

Monday, January 16, 2017

Where are you now? (written on 12/18)


The pockets of the backpack are invaded by my groping hand. I check each fold franticly, knowing what I seek will be in one of the many black creases. I am aware by now that if I were to only place what I seek in a consistent location, I wouldn’t go through this dance so often. I had already said goodbye to each co-worker, mentally noting the reality of my physical state yet again. 
I have woken up in not only the same city, but the same bed for over two months now. I am not sleeping in a hammock to awake with the sun, to steady myself on a bike for the bearable hours of the day. That is in the past, and I am here, in what was the future. A white bike awaits me just outside the glass door, beyond the logo of the company that currently employs me. I knew I shouldn’t have ate those donuts, the abundant amount of sugar in my blood starts a small ache in my left temple. The present situation I am in overwhelms my mental state, and I take a deep breath, closing my eyes to focus my mind on the task at hand.
Where the fuck are my keys.