what tomorrow brings.

xix. who i have become.

xix. WHO I HAVE BECOME.

i told my therapist
that i was getting better
with hands that shook quietly.
she took some notes before
smiling up at me. i wish i could've
told her that it was the anxiety talking,
how i've spent the past two nights
numb ,
a feeling that no other anesthetic could make,
that i'm building off what i fear the most
and one is being able to tell the truth.

she told me to stop putting bandaids over
rotting wounds
so instead i drown myself in the ashes of
mother's cigarettes and father's empty
vodka bottles.
i count bruises over scars
hoping they come out even.
i trace the endless miles of train tracks
in hope of finding the comfort of what

home should feel like.

i can't help but look up at the explosion
of stars when the seam of the sky bursts open
and feel like they exist for someone better than me.

i'm lost thinking why i'm not off blind when other's
deserve to see the beauty of what the world offers.

i'm left cottonmouth, pills scratching up the back
of my throat. i want to be better,

but that's just the anxiety talking.