Yesterday
I want again to be perfected.
Everyday, awakening to fine-tuned platitudes,
Agendas, each hour hanging before me
Like coats on hangers.
I want overcast and quiet;
I want blue screens and coffee stains,
Car exhaust and migraines.
Most of all,
I want to wake up and not feel like
Setting myself on fire
Purely out of spite.
I want to wake up and not feel like
The ground was yanked from beneath me,
And I was suspended in the brief moment
Before gravity.
I want to drop dead from winding up the entropy,
Ironing out the flesh across my face,
Peeling off the scars I traced.
I want to drop dead and stay.
I don’t want another trip back from the grave,
The festering stench of yesterday,
Puking up the plans I made.
So many years I tried to keep from being lost,
To be back on top so I can at last leap off.
Copyright © Jessica Vh | Year Posted 2015
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