suicidal ideation while washing dishes, all of them covered in flour.

i haven't written a poem in months. i lack the necessary train of thought.

if you stop crying for a couple years, you lose the ability.

crying is a gift.

this is a natural release. a place to keep the pain. a place to put it down

gently and say "i don't need you anymore".

wrap it in paper towels,

wrap it in cling film, in old curtains, in your 3rd grade best friend's old shirt,

all your good deeds, all of the things you want to stop thinking about,

wrap them and put them to bed.

recently, i considered paying a visit to a psych ward. this made my mom cry.

how do you explain to someone that you already know where you're going?

how do you tell her you're used to this?