11.02.2022 | IN PLAIN SIGHT
the physiological blind spot
refers to an area of blindness in the visual field
where the optic nerve
passes through the retina.
non-impairing
minimally perceptable
functionally non-existent
what could be hiding there?
10.31.2022 | i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
i am so sad
10.30.2022 | treadmill of viscera
the trees outside are waving to me
the wind that jerks them around for me
the clouds ahead that rain down their sorrows upon me
i hold the universe in my hands
on my shoulders
in my heart
through my body
runs deep and aching
my bones creak with the pressure
my guts spill out onto the floor
they were already covered in
dirt and dust
rust
and decaying
wrought iron shoulders and trembling fingers
my skin falls like ribbons around me
tied a neat little bow on my arms
are my mistakes
countless and climbing
overtaking
where do i stop and the pain begins?
when do i stop and my life begins? i'm
stretching turning splitting apart slipping
open
i'm sick of picking myself up
running forward and getting nowhere and dragging my insides
behind
10.17.2022 | autopsy
ice
cold
waves.
there’s something in there.
they reach into their pockets, digging for their weapon, the blade they kept at hand for moments like these
the water encroaches further
desperately. searching. reaching into their flesh, between their ribs. its not here
the moon pierced through scant clouds like spears as the black water begins to lap against their feet. the sea gives no clue as to what lies beneath. but it’s something. and that’s enough
they shove their hand down their throat in one last desperate move
fingertips brush again smooth slick metal, covered in bile. grasping the metal. blood starts to spill. more as they slide the blade free, drawing a clean line up their esophagus. threatening to split them in half
they had no choice.
the water wraps its fingers around their ankles. moving up their calves. it reaches their knees by the time they pull the blade free; blood is pouring from every orifice. they can’t see. smell. hear. taste. everything’s filling with blood, flowin,g pouring over into the icy sea around them as
teeth
the thought of a scream was merely that as blood strangled them as teeth latched onto their left ankle; whatever that creature is, it’s here, and it’s not going down without a fight
steadfast, as best they can they grip the blade in both hands and swing downward. it slices straight through their left calf. the creature isn’t phased. ripping. pulling. tearing. without a leg to stand on they fall into the freezing waves.
the water is so cold it cuts straight through their flesh and bone, but it washes enough of the blood away that they can groggily open their eyes. lift their head
what were they doing?
the tide pulls back, back, recedes to whence it came.
they look down at their mangled body
not a single tooth mark. puncture wound. sign of any struggle
a missing left foot. a long slice up their sternum like an autopsy.
they rest their head back down on the rocky shore one last time as the water overtakes them.