On Writing a Poem While the World is on Fire
The first thirty minutes
of the session with my therapist
were spent figuring out
why she couldn’t hear me
in her headphones.
The second half
I just stared at a wall
in my 350 sq foot apartment
and showed her my new plants.
I asked her to research kink
before we meet next.
“Don’t yuck my yum.”
Everything is too much.
I just want to let it hurt
and get fucked until I can remember
how to cry in therapy.
3 thoughts on "On Writing a Poem While the World is on Fire"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
miss hearing/reading your poetry. i’ve been feeling overwhelmed w/ everything too, thanks for sharing <3
“Good gods, I relate” seems to be my pattern response tonight.
Powerful, this one, Madison.
I went through this space as well.