the longest train whistle I've ever heard

I'm pleased by the reflection of the fleshy succulent in the brown mug stretching from the windowsill into the sun 

All my feelings are pathologies

 

Without limerence, what's left 

It's been a long day and I need to retreat 

sitting on the big blue chair in the back room upstairs 

silken pajama pants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt 

I'm sick again 

a condition of cognitive obsession

I'm only just starting to come to grips with what it means 

Is all angst merely chemistry? 

Compulsion, obsession, and lack of control 

I feel more clear-headed than I, perhaps, ever have 

This is sad; this was a mistake; that wasn't okay; this is hard; this is perverse; I was struggling so much more than I knew

The thing about masking is it also obscures you from yourself

mirrors offer only a distorted reflection  

Now I see suffering. And also wisdom 

So much of what was presented to me as spirituality was poison 

I was susceptible because I was sick 

All my distortions were subliminal  

What I'm trying to say is 

This may be caused by low levels of serotonin in the brain 

remember when I lived in Maine

 

I've forgotten how to relax again

Pay attention to your breathing 

Feel the rise and fall of your stomach 

Soften your shoulders 

For a second -- 

Then everything braced again 

This year, so hard, has softened me 

I am toughened and suppler, like leather

the robot in the grocery store

 

every time he rolls past me with his giant googly eyes, i want to tackle him to the floor. i want to hand the $30,000 it took to buy him to a human being who will use the money to pay rent and who will open another checkout lane when the line is backed up halfway down the baking aisle. i want to rip his googly eyes off. i want to beat his plastic head in. it's not a head. it's plastic. 

the only time i felt for him was the day he tried to escape 

snowing

My heart —

it closed 

back on skis again 

ever sad and ever lonely 

I held my father's hand each time that he cried

As a child, sick 

Lying on my side on the brown couch in the basement 

He brought me peach fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt, gently stirred

He brought me orange juice diluted with water 

He'd bring me whole wheat toast, pat of butter in the center 

I see how deeply I have been loved even as I've felt so unloved 

I see how unloved I was even as I've been told I'm so loved 

I don't know if I can bring myself to care any more. I'm so tired of feeling hurt. 

I'm sorry for equivocating. The cigarette poem was about exactly what you thought. 

For a while I fancied myself far braver than I actually was. 

I'm a more honest person now. I've suffered for it. 

I look skyward into big, wet flakes 

The fencerail sparkles

Small crystals cling to the tiny blond hairs on my cheeks 

He looks like you and I can't get it out of my head —

How much I wanted you 

Stuck in the shower

 

I have been closed off to magic 

Don't cancel the reading

 

I know it's you by the sound of it 

I thought about it all day

How long I missed you 

How I can no longer ignore the screaming 

Lying on the couch under the chenille blanket 

I want to ignore the 

One sounds warm and the other, cold 

I'm not sure it's that simple 

I'm not sure I'm not sure 

The internet says I'm not supposed to feel like that 

I've been afraid of you 

I've been afraid of you 

It feels good to not say it 

I wish you'd asked differently 

I wish you'd asked 

I wish you —

I wish you —

I missed you 

What would you tell your friend

On TV a person wakes up when someone who loves them tells them they're sleeping