this is something for ME TOO


and I am sitting in my bed and

i see the water turn my doorknob,

dissolve the door hinges

and all I can think is that “orange” is

the only word that has ever seemed to rhyme

with door hinge since I was seven

and now I’m laughing as I write this because

the spell check in my head has changed my “doorhinge” to “door hinge”

and a lot of my life has been a fucking lie.  

and as I’ve been messing around with doorhinges and oranges

the water is up to my neck, the pages are wet

i cannot grip my pen. And I’ve never been able to

open my eyes under water

so I can only feel it now.

feel myself screaming and feel the bubbles leaving my mouth

feel my hands shaking, feel myself sweating even though

i’m underwater so it doesn't make any sense

and you say to me, “Breathe. Do you know who you are? What those hands can do?”

and I can see again. And I can write.

my hair is still wet and I am still shaking

and the sheets are wet and I can still feel a

little bit of water in my throat but

i can see and i can see my words,

my words,

in the drops of my eyelashes

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