A sadness by any other name.
Some days I am the store of balloons, some days I am the porcupine, on the worst days I am both. Or some days I am the lung, some days I am the pack of menthols, on the worst days I am both. Or some days I am the house of cards, nineteen years tall, teeming, untackled, some days I am the earthquake, on the worst days I am both. Or some days I am what happened, some days, I am what caused the happening, on the worst days, I blame the thing that breathes, the part of me that is body & alive & remembers what everything that isn’t body tries to forget. Or some days, I am joy. Some days I laugh. I swell with so much god that the sky of me rains. Some days, I am just the rain. An endless air of grey. A damp, muted bed of dirt. On the worst days, nothing grows.