the cure

when the sludge has set, and you 

feel like your skin may crack its way off of you.

you'll never go back to work, you'll never answer your phone.

you'll

just hide

in your 

den of thought.

try to slowly wiggle your toes.

loosen the weight off of your feet,

and get up.

go outside to your car, get in and drive.

drive to the old dirty mountain road 

and roll your window down. 

stick your hand out of the window and let the wind move you through the air. that air, i still don't understand. that air moves me and you through space. that air will move your hand, and with some control, will move it, echoing the waves of oceans that surround you, no matter where you are. 

that rolling motion, that wave, will carry you to a better place. a place of appreciation. a smile. a simple movement will rush all the way through you, and out the other side. 

that wind will take something from you, the bliss your body is feeling in that moment, and it will move through the air and space and into the lungs of people everywhere.

that is a moment for yourself. that is a moment for the world. that is the cure.

love gas

when pressed to talk about something i know little about i want to look away, out the window, into a storm that i could calmly announce was heading our way. and everyone might forget that i don't know a thing about politics or love for that matter. all i really know is when i see an ex of mine with someone else, my stomach starts to clench and a ball of sad love gas falls from my intestines out of my butt and into the room, where i smell it and want to yelp. instead i say "who farted" and look at the nearest stranger accusingly.

and that poor old stranger will deny it, but no one will believe him because a pretty girl like me could never make a sad love fart. you can taste the heartbreak on the back of your tongue. (it's like dried out roast beef on stale bread being chewed up by someone with cotton mouth. and then they take a sip of the nearest beverage only to find out that what they just drank is older than the roast beef and definitely had an expiration date.)

i want to breath normally. and eat normally. and drink normally. all of these things come only half naturally to me. but most nights i wake, my body folded in half and my stomach as tight as a brand new rubber band. i have to stretch back out and start to breath again into my belly. and when it comes to food, i hesitate every time i feel hunger for fear that i won't look so nice anymore after it. and drinking is the only thing that makes me smile. and have a fair laugh with people. otherwise they start to see my true sadness and cant stand to be around me anymore. all i'll have left is self loathing, but with drinking, i entertain.

i jump around, i take my sweater off and i left my hips touch everyone around me. i kiss my friends and promise them love and satisfaction, just at a later date. a storm is coming, i think, while i'm spinning on a dance floor, but i wont know what it looks like until i sit down by a window and avoid a perfectly fine question.