restless offering
for the days when your yeses echo into silence
the world,
eager, mouth agape,
gnaws at my membranes
what i once called energy
now seeps out quietly,
siphoning the parts of me
that used to dance in wonder
without reason,
without needing to explain their joy
i’ve tried
god, i’ve tried
but my efforts
evaporate like rain
on a too-hot sidewalk
no applause,
no echo,
just the bureaucratic shrug of existence
handing me another unpayable invoice
for daring to care too much
i whisper why
then scream it
into the woven fibers of the void
no answer,
though sometimes i swear
i hear a whispered cryptic riddle
that strikes below the belt,
leaving me doubled over
in metaphysical confusion
everything i needed used to come to me
like rainfall on windows,
unasked, rhythmic, abundant
now my needs are in retrograde,
and every attempt
feels like déjà vu
on a loop i can’t pause
bound by my own futility
i give like it’s sacred
i give like it’s all i have
but the universe still screens my calls,
walks past me on the street
while turning its head
like it doesn’t see me begging
in full daylight
i am a living subtraction,
trying to carry what keeps dropping me
and still,
the restlessness arrives,
a phantom itch under the skin
where stillness should be
i wheeze chasing finish lines
that were only ever a clever mirage
no, i’m not lazy
i’m overflowing in reverse
even my silence
has errands to run
my naps cost more
than i can ever seem to afford
every failure
engraves a new sermon into my bones
every mess i clean
becomes an exhibit in the museum
of my becoming
i crave to move
and be still
at the same time,
a hunger left unsatisfied
this is the paradox of the soul that still hopes
i am restless,
not from the absence of rest,
but from peace always asking
to be earned in advance
my dreams demand receipts
no rest for the wicked,
the weary,
or even the good
only interest rates
on borrowed breath
skating by until the grim reaper's tax season
and still,
i offer
because i must
because i am the offering
i'll give until there's nothing left of me
About the Creator
Lolly Vieira
Welcome to my writing page where I make sense of all the facets of myself.
I'm an artist of many mediums and strive to know and do better every day.
https://linktr.ee/lollyslittlelovelies


Comments (2)
This captures the ache of being unseen and still giving. 'Overflowing in reverse'—wow.
“i am a living subtraction” sticks like glue to my ribs. You’ve rendered this feeling exquisitely, and I know it well. Beautiful works as always, Lolly