I probably make a post about my dad every year at this time; it’s a really hard week to deal with and even though it’s been four years now, it still aches.
The only things apparently incapable of making me relive past traumas right now are, I guess, hockey and the Food Network. I can say, well I just won’t go on social media, or watch certain television shows for until as long as I stop spacing out, returning to these moments, but then I go to the bathroom on my campus and there is a flyer on the door telling me statistics of rape in colleges during August through October. The flyer says, on the left column, “Remember! Get consent every time!” like this is not a given–because apparently it is not.
I think I see the same woman with her kid at least 20 times in one shift. Continue reading “Iterations”
I mean, it’s practically just prose with line breaks.
What moon phase are we in right now? I don’t know; it probably doesn’t even matter.
Not to be That Guy, but this July was super cold and climate change is definitely a thing. Then again, I’m cold anywhere below 78 degrees Fahrenheit.
Can you be gone for so long and still expect her to wait for you?
…which is not necessarily a personal poem.
It is, however, a pantoum.
There are so many things I want to say. I wrote this before I had a word for what happened, what was happening. I mentioned on Twitter that we don’t realize things are hurting us as kids but we probably don’t realize it as adults, either.
But I should let it speak for itself.