teeth (wolf's howl)

I am overcome with grief

but the minute I try to name it

it subsides

burrows away to somewhere inside me I cannot reach

I am too big for my body.

my skin

it ripples like waves pulled outward by a tide

controlled by a parasite that digs deeper and deeper and deeper

I am afraid

I am not myself NOT

I am not afraid

There is laughter --

caught in my throat like a ship run aground

and held there

it is not time to let it out

I do not know who I'll become if I do

someone crueler

someone less caring

perhaps someone free

(untethered?)

the sirens outside my window sound like a wolf's howl

and should I howl back

I feel I'll end up on a vacation somewhere cold

I am not myself

this nagging pinpoint pulling on the corner of my sleeve

it tells me I could be bigger if I just let go

that I could match the pressure

release some steam

(is that right?)

if I just climb that mountain of grief

-- of laughter

-- of the color purple

(red?)

swirled up and writhing inside me like worms in the dirt

I am too big for my body.

and sometimes this grief is too much to bear

but that's stupid

no one feels trapped inside their skull

like an animal in a cage

and my body is not a zoo meant to keep me complacent

there is no bigger picture here

the laughter is lying

and when that grief subsides

and my chest isn't so heavy

I find myself relieved but also...

disappointed

because if the point of life isn't to explode into stardust

and millions of lights to make up universes

then what is there?

12/28/22 9:28pm