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Cherry Mud Pies

the long path forward

Lost...
It’s not where I am or who,
Per se
But something more
Like my skin has sulked calmly from my bones
And chosen refuge underneath the dirt
Accompanied by disease and death
Or my eyelids simply choosing
To tape themselves to my brows
As to avoid any furrowed confusion
When they want to close
And appear dead
 
It’s like chocolate...
Meets actual mud
When you were a kid
Making pies in the backyard
Except you chose to eat your creation
And are stuck with the vestibule it left burrowing through your core
And the hard mound of dirt in your stomach
Has hardened, gone putrid
And decided to seep from your pores
 
It’s like drowning
But never leaving shore
Walking along warm sand
Each still, minuscule piece
Marking its pattern in the ridges on your feet
Then suddenly like melting
Your waist pools between your thighs
Like you’ve just wet the bed
And your neck follows
Using the gentle tears wept as lubrication
And all that’s left is the antenna of your scalp
Radio signalling for some semblance of sanity
Or understanding
 
It’s like leaving your house
And closing the door behind you
Only to realize you aren’t home
And maybe you never have been
So you wander aimlessly through neithbourhoods
The small ones, with driveways
Where families get together on the weekend
Where Tom, the wacky dad next door
Let’s you sit beside him and cry
And he doesn’t get mad
He just laughs it off and pats your back
Before sending you on your way
Whatever way that is
 
It’s the smell of burning toast
Or pie crust
When it’s the middle of summer
The heat is radiating through the windows
And it’s not just the food that’s baking
 
It would be easier to just swallow a bunch of cherries whole
And pretend they were marbles
So when I trip over my tongue
The only thing that’s confusing is whether or not I should have chewed
And the only difference is that I’m tripping over my words
Because I’m struggling to swallow a host of pits, skin and bloody juices
Not because I’m struggling to not bite off my own tongue
And force it down my throat with saliva
While simultaneously drowning in tears
 
Because then maybe when I was gasping for air
Begging for someone to free me of my red stained lips
Swollen throat, puffy eyes
It would actually look like I was struggling
Like I needed help
And I wouldn’t feel so goddamn lost

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