Poetry

The method

I find it hard to get over some things. 

I find it hard to get over anything– particularly when I’m trapped beneath it. 

Struggling, straining, screaming, against it–While simultaneously aching, aiming, and pining for it. 

I am exhausted and enraptured by my emotional contradictions –I sprint to the finish, I am going this alone. 
I am loving.

 I am living. 

I am continuing my story. 
God damn. I’m lost. But, I am. 
;

Standard
Poetry

Where I started

Another wrong turn

Vicious circle 

Sickness of familiarity 

Back to where I started.

A conversation, guarded

Words balanced on the edge

Trigger happy

Love…sick

Lovesick.

Regretted exchange 

Body Heated

Back to where I started.

Don’t worry my little star

It’s of my own doing 

I may be lost

But I’ve been here before.

Standard