Questions people keep asking me

Do you know
the time? Why are you so quiet?
Are you sad? Why are you sad?
Are those circles growing
under your eyes? Why do you sleep
so little? Why do you keep singing
songs no one listens to? Could you lend me
some money? How is your family doing? Do you still speak
to your father? Are you still writing? Aren’t you
supposed to be studying? Isn’t school important
to you anymore? Don’t you ever think
about the future? Can’t you take
a joke? Are you still making art? Why
did you use that color? Why do you keep using
the same colors? Why
are her eyes closed?
Do you like him? Why don’t you
say anything? Why don’t you talk
to him? What are you
waiting for? Who are you
waiting for? Who
are you reading? Do you still read? Are you reading
my face? What are you afraid of?
What do you know? Why don’t you
tell me? Is there anything wrong?
What’s wrong with you?
What are you doing?

What are you doing with your life?

smoke signals

Upon returning to her room, she strips
her body bare of clothing, piles
the garments on the floor and barges
into the bathroom. Her body is warm
and ripe with the scent of his smoke, marked
with his fingerprints just a few hours ago. Turning
the faucet on, she grits her teeth
as the cold water washes all traces of him
down the noisy drain: the sound
of a body being forced to forget.

the closest I get to articulating “writerly” thoughts

I wish someone would just come up to me and drop me a book of poems to keep me occupied for an entire evening. I really do.

All I have is sleight of hand

Just so you all know, I’m not dead, as much as the recent stuff I’ve been posting seem to suggest.

Intermission

In the meantime, this is pretty much how I am.

Exam week’s about to roll in, I need all the strength I can to get through the usual hells. Hope you’re all doing well.