Last Updated On October 20, 2018

 

Her face is a map of the world, is a map of the world You can see she's a beautiful girl, she's a beautiful girl And everything around her is a silver pool of light People who surround her feel the benefit of it, it makes you calm She holds you captivated in her palm -KT Turnstall

 

 

How My Depression Manifests Itself Physically in Two Parts

Part One:

I’m fine, everything’s fine.

But my face feels like plastic.

And I’m crying out my ear holes.

Its a cold leak.

My lower lids are heavy,
Stopped up with last year’s stinking clots,
And clinging vines.

I choke on my spit like fifty times a day.
Like ectoplasm is escaping.
A gauzy film of cheese clothe,
Full of demons.

Full of ancestors.

Full of demon ancestors.

Or ancestor’s demons…

I’m fine, everything’s fine.

Is this a parlor trick?

Am I a charlatan?
Soothing and deceiving the masses?

Look.

But not too closely.

Part Two:

I have complications with my rising.
I’m either sunken in
Like a cake baked with omissions
Or bulging like an expired can

Sullen or busting
Diminishing or dangerous

There are few remedies
for piercing the skin
For undoing whats done

My vents are busted
Way down deep in my most mariana trench
My issues squirm painfully below the surface like fetuses or parasites or both

If only we were perfectly vented pies!
The artistry is in the vents, you know
Maple leafs and sweet hearts
Baby, let me see that fruit!

Maybe a tattoo would give relief, although
It is awkward to say-
I don’t care about the picture,
I’m just here for the pain and the holes.

I do offer my flesh to needle
I like the parallel talk of acupuncture
Sinus pressure and water retention on my part
Chi and the spleen I forgot I had on hers

The harmony of our languages relaxes me
Release rises from strategic pinpoints like
I am a map of the world

 

Last Updated On October 20, 2018

 

Her face is a map of the world, is a map of the world You can see she's a beautiful girl, she's a beautiful girl And everything around her is a silver pool of light People who surround her feel the benefit of it, it makes you calm She holds you captivated in her palm -KT Turnstall

 

How My Depression Manifests Itself Physically in Two Parts

Part One:

I’m fine, everything’s fine.

But my face feels like plastic.

And I’m crying out my ear holes.

Its a cold leak.

My lower lids are heavy,
Stopped up with last year’s stinking clots,
And clinging vines.

I choke on my spit like fifty times a day.
Like ectoplasm is escaping.
A gauzy film of cheese clothe,
Full of demons.

Full of ancestors.

Full of demon ancestors.

Or ancestor’s demons…

I’m fine, everything’s fine.

Is this a parlor trick?

Am I a charlatan?
Soothing and deceiving the masses?

Look.

But not too closely.

Part Two:

I have complications with my rising.
I’m either sunken in
Like a cake baked with omissions
Or bulging like an expired can

Sullen or busting
Diminishing or dangerous

There are few remedies
for piercing the skin
For undoing whats done

My vents are busted
Way down deep in my most mariana trench
My issues squirm painfully below the surface like fetuses or parasites or both

If only we were perfectly vented pies!
The artistry is in the vents, you know
Maple leafs and sweet hearts
Baby, let me see that fruit!

Maybe a tattoo would give relief, although
It is awkward to say-
I don’t care about the picture,
I’m just here for the pain and the holes.

I do offer my flesh to needle
I like the parallel talk of acupuncture
Sinus pressure and water retention on my part
Chi and the spleen I forgot I had on hers

The harmony of our languages relaxes me
Release rises from strategic pinpoints like
I am a map of the world

Last Updated On October 20, 2018

Her face is a map of the world, is a map of the world You can see she's a beautiful girl, she's a beautiful girl And everything around her is a silver pool of light People who surround her feel the benefit of it, it makes you calm She holds you captivated in her palm -KT Turnstall

How My Depression Manifests Itself Physically in Two Parts

Part One:

I’m fine, everything’s fine.

But my face feels like plastic.

And I’m crying out my ear holes.

Its a cold leak.

My lower lids are heavy,
Stopped up with last year’s stinking clots,
And clinging vines.

I choke on my spit like fifty times a day.
Like ectoplasm is escaping.
A gauzy film of cheese clothe,
Full of demons.

Full of ancestors.

Full of demon ancestors.

Or ancestor’s demons…

I’m fine, everything’s fine.

Is this a parlor trick?

Am I a charlatan?
Soothing and deceiving the masses?

Look.

But not too closely.

Part Two:

I have complications with my rising.
I’m either sunken in
Like a cake baked with omissions
Or bulging like an expired can

Sullen or busting
Diminishing or dangerous

There are few remedies
for piercing the skin
For undoing whats done

My vents are busted
Way down deep in my most mariana trench
My issues squirm painfully below the surface like fetuses or parasites or both

If only we were perfectly vented pies!
The artistry is in the vents, you know
Maple leafs and sweet hearts
Baby, let me see that fruit!

Maybe a tattoo would give relief, although
It is awkward to say-
I don’t care about the picture,
I’m just here for the pain and the holes.

I do offer my flesh to needle
I like the parallel talk of acupuncture
Sinus pressure and water retention on my part
Chi and the spleen I forgot I had on hers

The harmony of our languages relaxes me
Release rises from strategic pinpoints like
I am a map of the world

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