Poems shaped in silence, insomnia, grief, and introspection.
Nightmind
why must I visit the graveyard so often the place my nightmares live headstones in crooked rows marking the soil where my hope bleeds I visit in pain I visit in regret I visit in slow retrace why do I keep coming back? what do I want to find? the
Nightmind
during heavy work the place at which you rest becomes deeper softer contrast makes this home arriving at the end of yellow tangled yarn a nest contained by the mess
Nightmind
does knowing how help cope with what is? replaying a tragedy looking for clues searching the moment under the dim moonlight pain comes in cycles no relief even when relieved knowing it will come again pain doesn't answer to answers
Nightmind
I hate my body the naked stage spotlights illuminating audience watching a stage built from whatever was around no gold leaf no elaborate carvings no permits no planning the choice of others an ejaculation now I drip
Nightmind
it's 2 pm I’ve been trying to make lunch when I open the fridge I rapidly close it as if I saw something move or hear footsteps spinning around I look for an escape there is none I'm physically in the kitchen but my mind
Nightmind
will I renew my medical cannabis card when it expires despite not using cannabis in many months yes I feel the benefit every day knowing if things get too hard I can return to that sanctuary having something certain while sitting deep in uncertainty is the difference between having a
Nightmind
as I'm getting somewhere shoes bouncing off the pavement how many living things have I ended? ⋱ noticing my flower crop top referring to me as a man as she works on my teeth ⋱ calling yourself a woman is hurting your family the court-appointed evaluator proclaims
Nightmind
the space between us nothing the space between stars nothing beyond the furthest light nothing nothing contains us
Nightmind
what's that like waking when I tap you on the shoulder with my typing, to then fall back asleep instantly after speaking? That’s a beautiful way to ask it. It feels a little like this: I am resting in a deep, open quiet, a place without pressure,
Nightmind
I trace back down the paths I’ve taken regretting the turns I should have made knowledge known afterwards rattles in my head useless treasure like keys found in ashes from a burned-down house
Nightmind
tick tock at 3 am I awake alarm set for 7 I study the patterns of my closed eyelids colors without names shapes without edges at 4 I get a drink I try my right side my back and my left I stretch my legs straight curl them to my
Nightmind
I'm new to the dry herb green sparkle flower here is what I notice while fermented sugars have one song the flower is a tailored suit or should I say a wardrobe full I've tried on a few one fit like sunny clouds the other a