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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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![]() Mint green walls enfold her, dripping slowly with Saccharine summer sweat. She feels Her mind pouring out of her ears, but clogged like Chlorine-heavy pool water that dwells past Its welcome. She welcomes nothing within These walls because no one is outside The door, its edges glued with popsicle drips,
Hinges squealing in broken-radio reels. Heatwaves have puddled liquids and Toasted solids, so her room is void of activity, Sleepy and soft, microwaved too long. Only the walls, drying and melting and redrying, Are available for her to stare at, and she stares, Wondering if she is also melting. There’s a mirror on the Far side of the room, to her back, but It’s distorted from trying to Outshine the Sun. She doesn’t know if It tells the truth, and she doesn’t want to Know. Believing in dissolving is as good as Dissolving, although she’s sat still Too long to have belief. Raising a finger to Slide across the warm walls, she tests her Tangibility. Her hand comes away green, But streaked brown, and she wonders: Were there chocolate chips in the walls? And Did she ever know the taste of their brittle bumps? Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
May 2023
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