Losing my Ability to Write
I’m scared of losing my ability to write
Like the way essays seem to escape me right before i have an idea
My fingers smell like vomit because i tried to catch my insides
Before they fell out
I think that when i look at the sky i don’t feel small
I just feel tired
I turn music up because that way i don’t have to hear the noises around me
I don’t think anyone understands anybody
And when they do they murder them
Like psychological serial killers who know people too well
Or maybe they kill in order to obtain the only good qualities people have
Sometimes i paint
But never to make anything only to feel the paint under my fingers
Like eruptions of colors that seem to know exactly what to say to me
My ears hurt from having the headphones on too long
But if i take them off i hear the carooning voices of those i don’t know
So i suffer in silence and turn the music up to drown the pain
My skin is soft according to everyone
But i don’t understand that because it feels to me that my skin is made of
Potholes
Craters so significant that they scream to be filled in
I think i am scared of living because you’re in it
That forever is beautiful but we don’t have forever we only have now
The music is so loud that my head is going to explode
My leg is shaking so much that it will fall off
Maybe then someone will believe my pain is on the outside as well as inside
When he holds my hand it feels like a net in case i fall off the tightrope
I’m scared to lose my ability to write
I think that the day i lose my ability to write is the day that i die
Because how else can i possibly describe what i see and hear
How will i document the world i live when there’s no way for me to put it down
The room is orange because it can be
It smells like the vomit on my hands and candles
The shirts the employees wear are the colors i will never get to see
And maybe writing is like that
Success that can never be obtained
Maybe he’s like that