Updated: Mar 4
TW: Implied self harm
i. dead night, hollow desk.
your lamp is a tacit limelight,
the paper in front of you is a death sentence in graphite, and you—
complacent paper puppeteer
slumped over artificial light and a dull
ii. in your veins,
nausea, seasick, sickling
selfish 1AMs, yeses, i love yous and of courses.
retractable box cutter.
on the cold white tiles.
iii. top of the morning!
routines keep you grounded:
yesterday’s trash to the unused side of the table
for the green light in every nook and cranny—
‘well written’, ‘brilliant’, ‘A*’ like morphine on a page.
v. back pain
past 3 PM – past the last ‘exit meeting’, the nausea oozes in,
air dense with molding dusk.
gnawing up your spine.