Dear Ignorance,

I drew gashes on my skin to reflect the inner me, in hope that someone would help to give these thoughts a rest.

I dug deep into my scalp to try to reach the mad.

The longer that I tried,
the closer the walls got. Confined. (Surrounded by thick clear skin. Skin that contains you –necessary for life–

wearing at the seams

I yearn for a time I knew. A time I longed for –how could we let us go?

Sometimes when I come back I don’t know if I am even mine or if I had been left with what is yours. I worry that you have more than me, that they loved you more freely. I look back to that empty shape and wonder what things I filled it with, what happened when we slipped past one another?

I wander with what you did with our time, my space.


He once told me that he hated you and I cried because he asked me to say goodbye –how could we let us go?


Our body is now unshapely wet and I am an old witness filled with stories

(my generation sleeps)