the stage manager is tearing seams and drinking salty coffee (a book of poems by

i'm listening

I feel like I'm in this, every single piece of it. Floating with sand under my skin. My skirt grazing the seat of the chair, stubborn like a bull. The days I stand watching outside, seeing it rain and pour with a cup of something hot and caffeinated cooling in my hands. My two gentle hands, braiding my hair and pinning it back, and God, they look so poorly. God, sometimes I swear I look so poorly. But I get through it. Dream, and drink.

8.19.15

have I posted this before? Who knows? I'm sorry this is old but school has 100% drained me of creativity. The American school system sucks, y'all. Have a good day. Love y'all.