i don’t know what to say

I.

i’m afraid of splinters

and bee stings

water that’s too cold

large groups of people

spiders

sinus drainage

change in plans

sudden conversations

penetration, sometimes

not having the right words

i’m afraid of being too vulgar

of everyone reading this knowing

what i think about when i

touch myself

i’m afraid that the pressure felt in the cage of my ribs

is actually from anxiety

and not excessive weed usage.

II.

there is a side street with four condos,

tall, private

i cry there where the wall caves into itself slightly

there is room to sit

someone must’ve called the cops because one car pulls up

adjacent to me

the surveillance is calming and

reminds me that no one knows i am here and

no one misses me until they realize and

i’m not even sure how to write about this

III.

my fresh snot reminds me that not every feeling is an emotion

and some things are better left unsaid

i bought my first round of cold&fever medicine

these stores have become familiar

soon i will not be able to grocery shop during my lunch break

last year my closet held three pairs of badly made leggings and

a few long sleeves and

maybe a hat or two

my most practical coat was eight years old, the other one

for show

i got bronchitis around this time

for reasons unrelated but worth mentioning since that was

one of few times i was sick

soon these faces i have learned to love (on my own time) will

go missing, and i will concern myself with their well-being until

the scars from summer fade

i’ve made my first clothing purchase, three long sleeve

shirts, fourteen dollars. i take note of the price because

last year i had no job and no new coats until my birthday

all bought by my southern mother

none practical

every year i tangle into the memories from before

beckoning out with poems

i am seen yelling in the streets with my phone in hand

reading from these drafts, not remembering any off the top of my head.