soft jelly in a brine

i haven’t been honest in a while; my body takes me to convenient places, my body tries to forget. i’ve feigned amnesia when passing through places i’ve been many times before. i blast songs like they’re melodies when they are affectively memories. the brutality of being honest shakes my tiny heart, and it is more than i can take. i will wake in the morning with the same old disease like it’s ever been before and thus will my tiny body ever try to forget

8:46AM

it has been two days since i’ve come home. after a stubborn bout of laundry, i clumsily knock over 3 trays of crayons (to which mama responds in her sleep and assaults me with an indistinct sound spelling annoyance, and it would take rearing too ugly a head for me to say: I forgive u, mama.. but i do. u likely did not mean to, as with all the other things u did not mean to do. watching ur sleeping body now, i have a lot of love for u), and properly pieced them back together in the unforgiving dim of daybreak

I can now sleep