that night when you taught me to speak my mind

One hundred orange skies later
In yesterday’s dawn
Sat a girl
With a book on her knee
And ink on her left index finger

She remembered the ink
It was blue
Like the sea
It glistened in her mind
Spoofing the cerulean surf
Of her forgotten memories

It was a familial blue
It smelled like sadness
And it tasted like iron
It felt like the loveliest tulips
As they billowed in the breeze
Brushing her ankle
Which lay soft on the grass beneath her

Vertigo

Turn
Stand
Sit
Roll over
I'm there
No I'm not a doggie
I'm Vertigo

Mezicline
Metroblah-bbity blah
They are the sustenance of this condition
and they make it difficult
to do much of anything
without needing a power nap or two
after every other commercial

where did myself go
it is trapped on the couch
in front of a screen
or typing away on this screen
for any definitional reason
found in the books in which I indulge myself
in hopes of escaping
this torturous thing
they wrote on that paper
and i want to ball up those minute grains of wood
and set the ink ablaze
and go back to work
and be me again
the me that you loved
the one that i hope you miss
the one that doesn't make you the way you are now
about the way i am now
and the way that i don't want to be
the slightest version of the me i continue to be