poetry:mental illness
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You go on a walk … The world a grave on your shoulders The pressure against your feet The concrete beneath you You finally understand the gravity. Thinking … She told you a story of the man swimming in the Puget Sound, intending to stay They found his body a few days later You think…
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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…
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This autumn has brought upon me a clawing for stability and thawing in uncertainty. It’s like my first day being alive again—forced to feel, but not forged to deal with it. I am as fragile as sculpted stone, feigned soft and sturdy, capable of shattering. I shame myself for lazing around, forgetting that this inability…
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Of course I have my reservations; Why, I am soft spoken—swimmingly (seemingly) golden. It’s all controlled and monitored, For I am violently hurting and desperate to express it, explain why. I think my anger hovers over me like a fly I’m unaware of. Point it out and out of embarrassment, I’ll attempt to cleanse myself…
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I wondered what about me deserved this level of lacking communication. I remember it is me who allows it and always forgives, for I know the intent never was malicious. I remember it is me who can react and control the situation. I remember my love, overwhelming. I wonder if I patched some love over…
Pajolo Cam 