Thirteen

sometimes

i wait

for the clock

to strike

thirteen

like somehow

that

would explain

everything.

one of those days

i’m buried in self help books and a desperate

need to re-discover my sense of worth

Logophile

words.

they invigorate my soul.

fragments that still the restlessness

of my heart.

how many times,

have survivors had to wield

a pen or paintbrush

because they couldn’t

wield a sword.

Escape Artist

i’ve grown out of my body,

and into my mind.

i craft my disguise

with the words i refine.

i watch the world deteriorate

from my window.

and make a silent vow

to keep moving forward.

a promise to never melt.

no longer weaving into

coherence.

the words evade my

fingertips.

Promise me you’ll never settle,

and then proceed to promise again

until the words are ingrained

in your tired brain,

and the truth is no longer pretend.

-accept yourself as you belong to yourself.

Emotional Numbness

i would like to write

something beautiful but,

i am currently debris.

an entanglement

of wordless feelings

and exhausted thoughts.

perhaps tomorrow,

i will find the right clarity.