These past two years I’ve experienced some really crippling anxiety. Three trips to the ER, in those moments I thought I’d maybe never get back to a grounded place. it felt as if I wasn’t tied to the earth anymore, everything around me was unstable and I thought I’d rather die than fight through it. Right now I’m on the other side. There are scary moments where I think I’ll fall through the cracks again.



I want to show you something

I want to unfold the creases

can you bear with me?

I want to show you something that’s unpretty and tangled

something that’s sometimes

some daysmeon late afternoons in winteron sunday morningsit’s an unpleasant gold

a disturbing light that illuminates dust tunnels

maybe orange, maybe rust, maybe burnt

you know when happy feels dark?

when comfort is nauseating?

when flowers are blooming and dead all at once?

now you see,

why I’m never quite rooted

I hop on one foot – not bound to the earth

but swaying in crooked directions

the ground isn’t far from the tip of my nose

but it’s a long way down when I float so unbearably slow

light and un-full of substance

my particles are empty.

they dazzle only shallowly.


I’d never thought I’d lost it all

until the January car ride when the sobs quickly turned to dry heaving

and I couldn’t stop until my body forced itself into sleep

earlier in the day, the waitress flinched at my silent tears

but the dripping refused to cease

I was far far far away, in a bleak and empty placethe hurt was satisfyingthe stitches popped off one by onethe buttons of some temporary suit that had kept the stinging bearableonly part of me remained in reality

I welcomed the tears

their company consistent and predictable

each drop a concentrated version of the mass in my gut

that winter I lost it all

only to come back crawling in the spring.

because there’s something about time that unfolds the kinks

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