maelynslavik

I am someone who is waiting on a dock in the middle of the night. There is a gross, green electric light shining on me. There is something out in the waves. 

Take me to the Karakoram Road, I beg—

Where the mountains meet the rivers, 

Entwined with the pathways of cracked cement

and they're all breathless 

telling me of the doctors who defied odds and 

the athletes who destroyed records and 

the CEOs and chefs and 

and what if, 

yes I think they're cool and 

There’s a girl in my grade who cut herself last week.