invisible in the office

yet again, it is friday and I am not feeling great. forgive me if I have nothing interesting to say... the only thing on my mind right now is how anxious and resentful I'm feeling and how much I'd like to vent in some way. hopefully the thai iced tea I'm gonna be drinking tonight fixes me...

so, the poem I'll tell you today is...


cool snail trail trickle down
hot racers slide over the hill, off the cliff
each wingbeat of my purple eyelids sending off another wave.
dampness gathers
around my neck and behind my ears.


this one is my favorite, no contest. I wrote it one morning after I woke up in the middle of the night and wept. the meaning is pretty clear. it's about the way the hot tears slowly fall as I lay faceup, leaving behind a cool trail on my cheeks and a growing dampness wherever they land. I don't remember why I cried but perhaps it's for the best. I've been learning lately that preserving my negative emotions, in whatever form, is something I usually end up regretting. 
anyways, I love the way the words sound. snail trail. trickle down. wingbeat. I love the sensations they call up in my memory. a cold, wet pillowcase, the teardrops that clung behind my ears, my cheeks hot and then cold but always wet, how sore my eyelids grew after I would wipe them and calm down only for another wave to bubble up like a fountain behind them. 

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