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vancouver, 5.29
Vancouver, you’re as gray as usual today, but as my hometown – in a way – I never really mind. my thoughts and worries are bouncing in my head, but the rattles are drowned out by buzzing construction, engines, a horn or two, someone shouting about God. I find a strange comfort in the messy…
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quiet
the loudest parts of recovery happens in the quietest corners of bedrooms. witnessed by nobody and nothing but that poster from childhood, the bed with its tangled up sheets – the sliver of 3 am streetlight from curtain cracks. there is no trophy or triumph, only the beating of the heart thrumming pulse steadied…
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more like a relapse
Take a pill, Swallow doubt like a shot in the dark. If I slip I slip, Into love more like a relapse. There’s a flame inside stuck on ignition, spitting smoke more like an SOS. Digging myself out from between the ribs, More like an exorcism
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i woke up to vancouver rain against the bedroom windows again
the soft patter of raindrops in the morning syncs with the slow thrum of the heart, weaving melancholy, ebbing anxiety, i close my eyes and try to re-free fall back into dreams – where there’s peace and reprieve, where the weight is able to untangle itself from the chest between the ribs washing out through…
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purgatory is a train station in the netherlands
Shadows of lives, barely human, clinging onto the pre-dawn mist. Morning hue paints our shapes in pale watercolour strokes, leaking our memories onto pavement, colouring their edges with unsaid words and distant thoughts. Rumbling of the distant trains, drowned out by the muted weight, on our backs, in the way. Phone screen…
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a regards to dysphoria and other things
I’m sinking in a body that never felt like it was mine. Memorized the weight, its creases and corners. Knelt into it, an atonement, Carried it into dreams, omnipresent. Under the blistering summer sun I played with the pressure on my ribs, an ache of a reminder. Under the waving shadows of the willow I…
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what’s left unsaid
for a while now, these words hidden buried in pockets clenched tightly inside sweaty palms, forming confessions, prayers, intertwined with the lint and $1.25 loose change. over and over ive memorised how they felt in the dark, but i could never let them out. is it a lie that i never let them see the…
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is this home.
You try to settle within your skin, the home you were long given, make your bed between the bones and sinew. Sometimes you want to tear the greying wallpaper down, fingernails to wall to wall, corner to corner; Take a hammer to the floorboards Pry out all the dead memories and set them free; Break…
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between us
We’ve walked lifetimes to meet here, opposite sides of a river rolling, dancing downhill; turmoil and crashing currents of impossibly, between the love, the warmth, all of it and none of it. We speak as if we’re side by side, words drifting through the tides turning back and forth on my tongue, threatening to drown…
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forgiveness
We can turn the guilt between our fingertips, wondering, if we can’t forgive ourselves for all the small things, how can we forgive ourselves for anything? Confess our sins at a broken down payphone late at night, heard by no one but a dead end road. Maybe we don’t deserve this 25 cent salvation –…
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