rereading what I write
is like reading the words of a stranger
I don’t know her
I am her
I am who am
the god of my brain
with no self-control
what
so
ever
and it makes the acids in my stomach sour
the back of my mouth closes
it’s hard to swallow
labored breathing
labor pains
as I realize who I am
my chest swells
too tight
I am drowning
in blankets
I can’t swallow
breathe in
not enough comes out
acid burns
turning
like tiny tidal waves
rolling
over dead
how could I have ever felt this way?
I don’t understand people
who feel the need to find themselves
who am I?
I’ve always known
never looked
I don’t know
how did I ever feel
the way I felt yesterday?
how did I ever feel
the way I felt tomorrow?
could I ever have been
so sad
really
when I feel so happy now?
but that happiness
is really relief
I better believe it now
Fudge It! 