i don't get sad much. i get guilty. i get guilty because i'm always running out of time. time puts me in a chokehold. time wraps its fist around my lungs. time has never cared much for me, and august makes me nauseous but it keeps coming, time makes me so guilty and august makes me guilty. and i don't know how to buy a plane ticket or health insurance. and i don't know how to do anything, and that makes me feel guilty, and time is laughing and laughing. isn't that funny. isn't that a little bit funny, it says.
YOU ARE READING
blood and brains and angel cake
Poetrythese words have broken me apart and put me back together
