bodyrestlessnessoscillationidentitydoubtdissociationself-erosionthe writing selftimecyclicalgodfaith
6 days to sunday
2026-07-20
dear paper i've been far from you and close to myself
but today i fail to recognize myself
i hurt and i got hurt
comfort is a hell of a thing
comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable
in my comfort zone i am disturbed
and when i'm disturbed comfort doesn't arrive
well it does, 6 days to sunday,
summer versus winter,
it's many months until may.
and the snow, how does snow feel?
stranger to my body,
strange ways lead to my body,
and i,
today,
the needle grinds at the vinyl,
hole grows wider,
senses go lighter,
there you go,
bye there
how do you want to read?
poems can unravel themselves as you read, line by line, at a considered pace — or just sit there, fully visible, like normal.
change this anytime — look for “reading: …” near the top of any poem.