maelyn

I could ramble on all day about the ethics of all the things our country’s done. 

But I won’t. 

Instead I’ll say this one thing: it’s going to happen again. 

there's a jar on my nightstand;

it used to be my grandmother's

but i recycled her memory 

into a pandora's box full of happiness.

the slips of paper are periwinkle

with dark purple penned messily,

it stretches my face apart 

not unlike the plates 

we learn about in science class. 

pulling at my jaw, 

cheeks, 

lips, 

until finally 

my whole demeanor 

i break lines like a maniac 

obsessed with meter, st 

opping thoughts before they begin 

: a psy 

                 chotic insomniac frankenstein's