with care [ and itching fingertips
even if it all crumbles to dust and silky grey ash
my soul still begs
it whimpers
( yes... it does )
for the skin on skin relief
that only you can suffice,
so let me pick the wet soil from the ground
and mix it with swollen grated stars
that taste of light-years,
soul and smoke
so I can cover you with it,
marking each and every one of your scars
licking their essence of your flames, of your gentle flesh
my tongue and fingertips
dripping of amber and burgundy honey
that once was a dawn of a bursting sun,
let me taste you
taste all the memories that speak of home
of life times before, and of those still to come
changes
please- just stay.
we aren’t the perfect match,
but loneliness is worse.
did we ever meld well?
probably not.
but this is worth a try,
maybe this time will work.
failure eventually leads to success,
even if it's watered down
there must be something left,
even if it’s just a bit of dust
where a heart used to reside.
Please: an open letter to the vaccine
Please tell me, why do I feel the need to spread my guts all over the internet? Why can’t the orange and yellow pills I take make me sedated enough to shut up? Is that blasphemy? I’m sorry if it is. Here goes the story, please listen.
I got my covid vaccine yesterday (is this too personal, I don’t know), and I’m completely and utterly destroyed. I have a fever of 102 degrees, I’m sweating like I’ve just run a mile in under five minutes (which is impossible, right?) and besides sweating like a pig, I also have chills. This poses a problem as I was supposed to get drinks with a friend tonight (margaritas, no less!) and that had to be cancelled because of, well, I suppose, my disease.
My friend (different one) told me that this means I have a strong immune system. Excuse me? One that’s burning me alive? Yeah, okay. I’m about as ready to get up and out of bed as I am to take the LSATs.
Please tell me what this is (God, or anyone who’s read this far)? I don’t know how science works. They put a shot in my arm and at least I’m pretty sure it’s not a government chip. So it goes.
This is where you tell me, this is the internet, we’re not doctors, we’re writers. I know! And I shouldn’t be saying this. But for some reason, even though I can’t really sit up, I’ve managed to open my laptop and write something. Are there going to be typos? Of course, sis! It’s my writing and my disease and I’ll do it how I want to.
And then there’s the predicament of my next vaccine. If the first one is this bad, am I to expect an early grave? I told my friend (different than the aforementioned two), I’m going to die with the second dose! But, we must prevail for science. As I sit here writing this, I wonder if this is what it is like to burn in hell. It’s that bad!
I started reading a book this afternoon... wait, this isn’t a diary! Anyway, that’s my question. Please tell me what this is, and my need to say something. Is it a “strong” immune system? The devil? Mental illness (definitely that)?
But we’re writers, not scientists, unless someone is (or a doctor), in which case, I’m really surprised you’ve read this far! Congratulations to myself, I’m useless and tired.
Please.
Look at me
We put in the same amount of effort
but you only look at him,
Why can he go out?
Why can he date?
Why can he host parties?
Why can’t I do what he does?
I’m as young as he is
I deserve to have a childhood too
why do I have to grow up faster?
Why am I the one alone?
Is it because he’s funnier?
Is it because he’s more outgoing?
Is it because he’s better looking?
We have the same grades.
I never got in trouble,
Is it because I have a bad temper?
I don’t mean to but you won’t look at me anyother way.
I’m your kid just as much as he is,
I want to be like him too,
I want to have what he had
Can’t you please just love me like you love him?