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They named the leaves, each fluttering disease— Anxiety’s quick wind, attention split thin, The glass-wall self of lost depersonalized ease, Dissociation’s drift, depression’s din. Each symptom tagged, each branch examined close, The bark scraped raw for proof the pain was real, Yet no one bent to where the darkness grows— The buried ache no chart can fully feel. I told them how my body rings with fear, How time goes flat, how focus comes undone; They nodded, marked the surfa

The clipboard arrives first. Boxes. Numbers. A pen tethered like a warning. Over the last two weeks, have you felt little interest or pleasure in doing things? Sometimes the morning tastes like metal. Sometimes I watch dust learn how to fall. 0- Not at all, 1- Several days, 2- More than half, 3- Nearly every day? It depends on the light. On whether my name sounds familiar. On how long the kettle screams before I remember why. ...two... Feeling down, depressed, or hopeless? Ho

essential essence, life depends on God –  The flood, the drought, the moisture in the air some storms will find me thinking that i’m flawed   whose rain will fall and wash me into prayer. we’re white, like noise, alive without detail –  evaporation, one of water’s states  but when the rainboots and umbrella fail we crystallize, then I can feel the weight.  and when I sleep, the life within me rests, Dissociatively or by my choice  I drift across my ocean in protest  Unconscio

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I swallowed my twin in the womb before the doctors even knew  there were two of us.  She lives inside my head And never gets to see the light of day,  I was given the gift of life, she got the easy part.  not an alien-  more like an Interterrestrial, If i was the earth, like the square root of me If I was a number. we talk all the time I hear what she has to say  and act accordingly  not a word spoken aloud. my body, her mind  I get the privilege of feeling the pain  She crea