Coping Mechanisms
Because therapy prices have gone up
Faces flare maximum tint at post-its that cover floor through ceiling like a multi-colored confetti of desecrated Care Bears reduced to sparkly individuated mini-missives.
All those “WTFs” and “Holy shits” bounce around the dining room amplified by (I swear to G*d) impromptu acoustics I didn't know existed ‘til now.
I'm here to tell you, it stinks of burnt rubber when multiple brains spin from nought to 'sudden-acceleration-acrid-reeking-condemnation.'
My initial speechlessness manifests as hot tears, heart palpitations then hiccups, cuz now I'm super anxious.
Maybe no one will sample the potency of my self-care, powerful and pungent. Not in the least, a tenderness in my written affirmations. Or the saltiness of my expletives (but only on blue notes though,) as yesterday some weirdo tried to grab my hand on the train and the panic attacks haven't stopped since…and this thing won't let me go…and the paper soothes me like steamed cannabis tea.
I am very appreciative that you read this poem! I put a great deal of effort and time into it, so that means so much to me. You are more than welcome to read more of my work below.
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Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (5)
Thanks for sharing, this is very relatable.
So many sharp crystal clear details so poetically captured! Such a personal piece and yet a very relatable thread of experience runs throughout!
Omgggg did someone actually tried to grab your hand???? Are you okay???
Post-it notes got me through a grueling time during Covid. Nicley done!
Gave me Tom Ryder vibes 😁 His whole loft is covered in post-its!