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Wrote these on two tough days. Im sure it's clear what it's about, I don't have a title.
1 year ago · 0 · Poetry, +1 · Explicit
220
It is exactly times like this when——
Well when I have no way to say what time it is like
When I stand in the room
Silent slow moving
I watch the lights slightly swing over the table
What a great image
Maybe if I wasn’t there
My family play acts a family
Sitting
Talking
On their phones
I watch
Maybe I need to not be there
And yet my body in the bottom (frame) peripheral is needed
Maybe if i was a camera
If I could place one behind my eyes
Remove the brain maybe
That’s how it feels anyways
Vision on my chin
On my legs and torso
Even the nose
-did you know you could see your own nose-
I come back to myself when I create distance
In some sense
And yet
At the same time
That’s when fear comes back to me
Every call, fear
Every time we return and need to open the door to the house
But thinking about my thinking about it
I become a camera again
Shot of the terrifying phone ringing
Shot of the lone, unopened door
Or better, the lone house. Lights all off but one
Is this gross
I think this is gross
I think I am gross
For feeling this way?
For being here?
Go back to the being there
Look at the window
It’s dark. Practically a mirror
(The shutter) blink(s shut)
You’re gone. A floating camera
That’s better
What the window really reflects shouldn’t be there
You know that
You look at yourself and you’re out of place
(Let’s be clear, that’s not totally unusual
You think it every time
I need to shave
Or cut my hair
Or change my hair
Or clothes)
What should be there:
A character
Or maybe just a different son or daughter
Someone that looks not like you
there is no conclusion
Go back
Replace all the “you”s with “I”s.
Or read the words in a different order
I can only think in aesthetics
Pt. 2
How do I act?
The door shuts
Voices talk
Fate still a mystery
I pet the dog
Tears begin
Door still shut
I pet the dog
I stare at the floor
It must be inappropriate to be on my phone
So I won’t be
The door opens
It’s what we thought
Tears abound
I stare at the floor
Where am I?
At home now
Immediately on my phone
Someone could call it a distraction
Maybe
That’s a nice word
But is something missing from me?
I suppose I told a small lie
I get close
Staring at the floor
and at my phone
When surrounded by the rest of them
It feels gross
The last time I cried was a movie
And then not for a year or more before that
A movie
And not here
Fuck
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