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Description
figure 1 . — ISOLATION .

a girl screams into a sea of people who love her,
but nobody turns nobody looks nobody listens

a girl screams into a sea of people,
but they don't really love her

a girl screams into a sea,
the sea,
a girl screams into
a girl
and thinks it is the same thing.

figure 2. — GRIEF .

sometimes, i think i am a road block. cracked cement.
the uncomfortable blip you are stuck at before you can arrive at your destination.
sometimes, i think i am rotten mouth rotten hands rotten heart,
acrid and burning. decaying.

sometimes, i think there is a honeybee in my throat and i name him love
love is anaphylaxis, love is the bloom of my throat, the choke of it all,
love is wanting so desperately to get out of the bars in my ribs that it doesn't know what to do with itself.
it dies there, i think. something dies, there.

sometimes i pretend there is a bee in my throat named love so i can justify how much it all hurts.

figure 3. — SOLITUDE .

i can't sleep anymore because i don't know how to turn off my brain.
the moon says, if they do not love you that is their loss but it still feels like mine.
i don't tell her that, but it still feels like mine.

i am a lonely the sound of a tv will not fix. i am a lonely that cannot be slept away.
i am a lonely i can feel in the way i wheeze,
waterlogged lungs for a girl, the girl ( see : fig. 1) who screamed into the sea
but it never meant anything, anyway.
a girl chokes (see : fig. 2) bumblebees and seaweed,
fills herself with seasap enough to fill all the holes.

i am a lonely. i am that lonely. sea lonely, mariana's trench deep.
the sting of a honeybee to the trachea. the seasap fills nothing.
nobody calls.

a girl ( see : fig. 1. see : me) screams into the sea and it welcomes her.
nobody turns. nobody looks. nobody listens.
eventually, she drowns, too.

Description
figure 1 . — ISOLATION .

a girl screams into a sea of people who love her,
but nobody turns nobody looks nobody listens

a girl screams into a sea of people,
but they don't really love her

a girl screams into a sea,
the sea,
a girl screams into
a girl
and thinks it is the same thing.

figure 2. — GRIEF .

sometimes, i think i am a road block. cracked cement.
the uncomfortable blip you are stuck at before you can arrive at your destination.
sometimes, i think i am rotten mouth rotten hands rotten heart,
acrid and burning. decaying.

sometimes, i think there is a honeybee in my throat and i name him love
love is anaphylaxis, love is the bloom of my throat, the choke of it all,
love is wanting so desperately to get out of the bars in my ribs that it doesn't know what to do with itself.
it dies there, i think. something dies, there.

sometimes i pretend there is a bee in my throat named love so i can justify how much it all hurts.

figure 3. — SOLITUDE .

i can't sleep anymore because i don't know how to turn off my brain.
the moon says, if they do not love you that is their loss but it still feels like mine.
i don't tell her that, but it still feels like mine.

i am a lonely the sound of a tv will not fix. i am a lonely that cannot be slept away.
i am a lonely i can feel in the way i wheeze,
waterlogged lungs for a girl, the girl ( see : fig. 1) who screamed into the sea
but it never meant anything, anyway.
a girl chokes (see : fig. 2) bumblebees and seaweed,
fills herself with seasap enough to fill all the holes.

i am a lonely. i am that lonely. sea lonely, mariana's trench deep.
the sting of a honeybee to the trachea. the seasap fills nothing.
nobody calls.

a girl ( see : fig. 1. see : me) screams into the sea and it welcomes her.
nobody turns. nobody looks. nobody listens.
eventually, she drowns, too.