Calm withdrawal into everything and nothing.
It’s a rest, a recap, a big deep intake,
and a gentle breeze uplifting. Recharge,
alone, yet again a need of comfort the self cannot provide.
What is supposed to be,
Is invalid here. Reaching for a stuffed animal, a phone-something tangible.
Dwindle down to reality, and then fear rushed over. Just breathe.
Stifle back the works, bite the wheel-it’s tangible.
Sentimental overload that never turns off. Cannot close the lid, cannot clear out. Breathing harder and suffocating into melt.
There is just no self-esteem without human rubber.
The hot mug burns fingertips-inhaling steam. It’s ease for a moment, until I open my eyes again.
Reminiscing years back,When I could have craved it, a Virginia Woolf type of formality.
(This poem was an exercise, even though it's a downer, I kind of liked the outcome. It still might need work though.)
*This outfit reminds me of a mullet, party on the top, business on the bottom.