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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() (& me, a gutted fish, retired koi borne of severed strings and dirty pennies— tonight i unravel in the lampless dark, splayed limp and caustic against cheap linoleum, in my mind i stumble my way through thresholds
and burn the photo frames as i go, restless and gripped by what i once was, in my head and out of time-- so tonight i seal my open wounds with candle wax, let it burn and harden over frayed edges pour it all out until the light flickers, puff of smoke-- tonight the sky is foggy and i’m exhaling, tasting smoke and copper instead of you on my tongue—) (& you, untethered, or maybe just unscarred by what we could have been–– me, i wring myself through the memories biweekly, sear them into my flesh until i am all fire, a big knot of red–– and still you are only a jade pendant dangling, cool and weighted, from another girl’s throat begging to be opened. and still i can only pretend to be her downturned head and fluttering lashes when really i’m just letting you hollow me out into a rib cage empty from the air sucked out of me, my entrails like ghosts wrapped around your fingers, still pleading––) (& a thread, snapped in two, a newly ruptured vein, crimson dried inky black in the night. and, blistering, i press myself to damp porcelain and let it extinguish the flames.) (& between us, a nymph floats down into the winter soil, hugs itself to the roots of a great oak. nestled beneath the stars, unseen and buried the way a burn heals, tender and calloused and tender again—dull silk pulled loose over a bloody chasm, waiting to unveil itself. years later, its cicada wings will blossom in scattered ribbons, billowing in the wind, sheer and golden and lightly reflective of the sun.) (& our ashes lie still as fertilizer.) Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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