Musings of a Slut

I’ve been too obsessed on posting poetry and photography simultaneously, instead of posting poems that I’m proud of having written. So I’m going to stop being so uptight about my format from now on.

Enjoy the poem!

It’s no one’s fault
But sometimes I am feathering along the hips of a lover
Whose love will dissolve in spit by morning.
Sometimes I crave touch that must be paid for first
In the form of climaxes.

I know-
There are better ways to gain affection
There are healthier ways to be loved
Like alcoholism, because you never drink alone
Like drugs, because your doctor will always prescribe xanax
Like insomnia, because there is always someone in Texas who’s awake enough to hold a conversation with you.

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A Storm In My Head

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Sometimes, depression is quiet. It is as silent and unmoving as a rock on the shore of a beach. Then the tide comes in. Then it is no longer depression, but anxiety.

But sometimes, depression is quiet. I liken it to living in a house full of water. See, when Anxiety is in the house causing chaos and breaking everything and hurting every houseguest, the flood is the last of my worries. But when anxiety is on vacation, the water is at my ankles, and it is raining in this flat. Depression sits in the corner, silent, unmoving, unfeeling.

Continue reading “A Storm In My Head”