Day 140 – Magic

I have put so much magic
in places it shouldn’t have been

I have sores all over
from picking apart the times

If I’m raw it’s because I never healed
If I tell the truth it’s not the whole thing
I ate too much magic I couldn’t afford
and now I keep secrets from you

But oh, sometimes I believe
we live in a place
where magic is as magic does-
if I ripped open all those scabs
would they pour out glitter,
if I went back to that place
would you meet me there?

Of course, of course
you wait there still
where magic should never have been
but each time I go back I see
your shadow
and the blisters rise again.

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Day 139 – Grey Hours

Grey hours love me
like dead flowers
untragic reminders
of function and purpose

They are my estate,
my inevitable sickness
and cure;
they are children I bear

They sit and watch,
attached to ceilings and walls,
they whisper
or sometimes they sing
indecipherable words I
wish I could play;
try to teach me things
I wish I could learn

All I’ve learned
is that these things
do happen

There’s nothing
but to wait

Grey hours love me
like dead flowers
forgotten ’til the
next bouquet

Day 138 – Give Up

if you must give up
i must let you give up

if i’ve made you tired
then i must let you rest

there is nothing in your eyes
to keep you here

there is nothing i would do
to make you stay

you don’t remember
and i can’t forget

but i can’t bring it back to you
i cannot watch you hurt

if you must give up
then i must give up too

Day 137 – Silence

there is a cosmos in our silence;

to sit quiet with you is better
than speaking for hours
with anyone else

the world, pressing for content,
turning thought to data to excess,
a machine of produced community,
forgets to earn,
forgets how to guess

and we, in silence, auction off our places in the race,
buy back our costly solitude
to break in half and share

we are worth more than
what comes out of our mouths

Day 136 – Caroline

You don’t know me but you will, Caroline
I hope you’re ready for a mess
I hope the money’s worth the time
You don’t hate me yet but you might, Caroline
Before I’m through with you

Many have tried but I don’t go down
without a fight; I’m on fire
and you’re gonna put me out

Call me anytime with the news, Caroline
Tell me what I always knew
Tell me I’m too young to die
You’re gonna see that I’ve died many times, Caroline
And there’s not much you can do

Day 135 – Runny Bits

let me tell you a secret:

my head is cracked like an egg on the sidewalk,
with all the runny bits collecting in the seams,
a river for the ants to drink my mental health

it has always been this way

i am mad as a cartoon most days,
spectacularly unmedicated-
the body, whole, seemingly undamaged
protects its secret, protects itself from
having to admit, having to explain,
having to ever ask why, ask for help,
ask for comfort, ask why
ask why i can’t be
as strong
as i
should

i simply invent other ways to be strong
and i live in that fantasy world until
another death becomes the option again

but what you see, what you love,
what you’ve curiously sniffed
is a series of fights, a collection of fragmented pieces,
a river of wasted struggle,
the runny bits flowing for you,
my ants,
minding your business, unknowing

Day 134 – Rilke

“It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; the fact that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it. Also, loving is good, for love is difficult. Love between one human being and another: that is perhaps the most difficult task we are given, the most extreme, the final test and trial, the work for which all other work is merely a preparation… it is the ultimate end, and is perhaps something for which human lives as yet barely suffice.”

– Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

What words have ever cut through pain?
But there must come a light,
a hand in darkness,
a hopeful love,
again.