HOME | DD

Description
- self erasure. steam of jokes, of would-do-anything. press of touching. the scratches on my skin you do not ask about.

- 4 a.m. phone calls, a fissure of apologies. feeling of fishing line, drawn from the center of skull through the body, out through toes. shattered nerves beneath the rib cage.

- alcohol sweats. i stop your hand with my hand. say if this is a fight, i am stronger.

- i fall asleep on the driveway.

- pretend this is a medical procedure. needle through a hand that is not mine, anaesthetic float out through body. veins under plastic.

- i do not exist

- you are kind to me so i do not trust you.

- an empty room. calculated dosages. the smell of burnt hair.

- my dad holds me like a seatbelt. says, what was that. i curl into my knees.

i don’t know. i don’t know.

he drives the last two blocks with his hand on mine. slowly. my whole body rains.

i’m sorry. i don’t know why i did that.

walk into the house. legs unsteady. no words.

Description
- self erasure. steam of jokes, of would-do-anything. press of touching. the scratches on my skin you do not ask about.

- 4 a.m. phone calls, a fissure of apologies. feeling of fishing line, drawn from the center of skull through the body, out through toes. shattered nerves beneath the rib cage.

- alcohol sweats. i stop your hand with my hand. say if this is a fight, i am stronger.

- i fall asleep on the driveway.

- pretend this is a medical procedure. needle through a hand that is not mine, anaesthetic float out through body. veins under plastic.

- i do not exist

- you are kind to me so i do not trust you.

- an empty room. calculated dosages. the smell of burnt hair.

- my dad holds me like a seatbelt. says, what was that. i curl into my knees.

i don’t know. i don’t know.

he drives the last two blocks with his hand on mine. slowly. my whole body rains.

i’m sorry. i don’t know why i did that.

walk into the house. legs unsteady. no words.