Pajolo Cam

when i’m left to my own devices

i stare up at the ceiling

blanket to my chin

and watch my peripheral

…

i’m kept entertained with the flashes of brightness from your computer

…

before that

i simulated the womb inside the blanket

and tried to remember what is familiar

…

at some point

i feel stupid again.

…

i scared my brother by talking about death causally,

gave away pieces of my cobbled memories throughout the week,

and i haven’t received flowers without asking for it.

…

staring up at the ceiling

and imagined my skull fractured

the headache it would inspire

…

face wet again

i think about these things to distract from the cause

…

i wish i was bleeding instead.

my tears disappear into the fabric

trickle into my gut

lumped together with the questions unasked and the conversations that trail off.