accidental conversations started at the same time between me and them mine left to hang in the air I can feel our time drifting away their priorities shifting I miss them before their being consumed I try to keep us alive to form new bonds to find loopholes but sides are taken flags are planted I am left I know others yet when we walk together it's still two and two and two and me I cannot change my shape their forms shifting becoming one still here but not the same

I miss her, Even as I hold her hands in mine. Grasping at happy memories They return bittersweet and fading. Threatening to lose her all over again. A fragment of her soft wrinkled hands Cradling freshly picked raspberries, Their sweet tartness, Their gentle sheen in the afternoon light. As I nervously pull fruit from their branches, Some squish and break. We stand in the bushes among bees and thorns, but by her side, I was safe. We carry our pickings inside. I can barely se

I'm back at the edge again a hundred candles melted down a series of moments colliding into one another too many problems to solve to much information to sort through a growing storm I'm not sure I can survive what is forming overhead, but the clouds continue to darken waves crash below, a cycle that never ends, the ocean at my door I dream of my racing heart and guarded muscles softening, to take a deep breath, to feel without pain, to live without scarring I wish for

Historically, there was a type of human torture where a captive person was sat under an irregularly patterned continuous drip of cold water right on the top of their forehead. At first perhaps it grew frustration, until hours go by, you try to anticipate the timing of the next drip but you can't. Supposedly these individuals would lose their minds, the drops of water overwhelming their systems with stress and anxiety. Drip, drip, drip. The symptoms of the systematic systemic

I’m not a real person, not anymore my body just a vessel in constant turmoil every morning a handful of pills a carefully considered meal electrolyte drops and powders a routine of stretching or meditation all to calm the nerves my body aches in ways I can't articulate each week a new crisis, new doctor, new update to my medical forms The doctors confused always say this is alot for someone my age I never know what to respond it's been more than words can share

a case of missing identity stripped away down to joints and bones what remains overfiring nerve endings an offbeat pulse a gasp for air a shallow grave where my organs flutter struggling to do their best a brain sits atop this rustbelt city coordinating disasters, aiding decline as factory doors strain to stay open but life here wastes in decay it feasts on its own misery always wanting more of the nothing left of me for no person exists here anymore just a sack of broken mec

I feel so small.I am floating on an eggshell. How am I meant to continue on in this new reality? Where no one will ever know me like she did, or love me the same way. In a world where no one understands who she was and what she meant. I am losing an appendage of my soul - It was already lost years ago as she lost herself, but now in her final moments, layers of shell wilt from around me. The incubation of grief finally over. I have already been drifting down this river of sor