What if, instead,
I look down at the wonder
of tiny, separate, moving cells
that have merged from the majesty
of Queens
and infernos of oceanic volcanoes.
Wishful adventurer, bad climber, & writer of unedited poetry. A blog candidly exploring mental health, veganism, & the tiny things that make life worth living.
What if, instead,
I look down at the wonder
of tiny, separate, moving cells
that have merged from the majesty
of Queens
and infernos of oceanic volcanoes.
Jack.
You told me you’d take me to
‘A Nice Lebanese Place’
With vegan options.
IT WAS A KEBAB SHOP.
There’s no photos, no eloquent writings or suicide notes from the night, or the day after. Because it wasn’t glamorous or romantic, and I didn’t sit and cry beautifully and write loving poetry to my family. I didn’t take selfies or photos of my drip in the hospital and I wasn’t able to live blog […]
I know it should worry me
but the sickness it bubbles up and not eating isn’t the most important thing, right now. I don’t care, I don’t care.
Desperate for sleep, with a dancing mind. Flinging itself
into each and every corner of my skull. Just to say
“hey,
i’m here, and I’m not quite done. I’m not quite ready to rest. I still have some dancing to do.”