076: better

I have been wondering if I am better. First thing in the morning, a joke bursts out of my mouth. Midday the clock surprises me with its vigor and silence. Afternoons I’m not so frightened, and I can peer through the fog if I squint. Evenings I sip strawberry water and think of vodka but I do not crack. Midnights I dream and laugh myself awake. Mornings I duck into the bright hall and don’t always remember the pain that shuttered me in, the old tunnel from bed to bed. Hours and minutes have my permission to pique my curiosity.

075: liturgy

I used to do this, when life was scenic. Now it’s just towers steepling into the mist. Drinking until the paper is blank. Clutching rails, glaring at my reflection as it sways. Opening the book of chances and shutting it again at once. Crossing the street away from the headlights, the voices, the serene smoke. Waiting for the neighbor cat. Leaving clothes on the floor. Wandering the aisles, unable to imagine one meal. Swallowing the salad. Clinging in the dark. Scribbling out the endless liturgy of how am I doing. Promising myself I’m not at fault. Playing at real life.