still removing my face from the muscle
something no longer familiar waits
i’m passing people pretending they are strangers
i’m tending to bruises along my legs
mistake the shapes for unwanted space
i don’t remember being there
cemented along gutters, trailing hands
yet my spine still catches on the turn
wishing that the medicine was meant for more
than a dull rot in-between emergency
you’re less gentle when the tar bleeds
catching salt trembling down your cheek
there is nothing to compare the feeling to
other than strained laughter leaving your chest
unconvincing in its flailing agony
i hope i remain illegible
the exhaustion of holding patience still
false reminders of people who cannot love
cheering light out of empty window views
i wish it could all still feel real
/// 