Feeling like a place
You are set up that way
It’s like all the feelings in one place,
A place that is open and closed,
And no drink limits,
A place that requires you to
Do nothing,
But presents
everything to you.
Dreaming about a place,
A place to go,
Where there is nowhere to go,
Or
Somewhere to be.
Time in a box,
Or a clock tells me the time,
It doesn’t ever change by holding the time,
Just by presenting it in a physical form,
And I hold the box inside of me,
A heart.
My heart is a place I go,
No one can go there,
And yet,
It’s open to you.
About the Creator
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Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts7 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
Melissa, hello. I love the freedom and irony and ambiguity you expressed in this poem. I loved lines like "And no drink limits", which transcends the limits of ordinary life. Thank you!