I apoligize in advance if this rant is triggering to anyone. What I saw deeply affected me and I know it affects others. 

I just saw a picture of a public lynching. One man's face stared into the camera because he wanted them to know. He pointed towards the tree and in the picture he stares at me. He stares at me because he wants me to know. I feel like crying. I'm glad I've made him happy. I'm glad that I fulfilled his divine destiny. To make a little girl cry. That man haunts me. And I can hate him for it. That man will follow me into my nightmares. That man will follow me into my dreams. 
 

Written during Writing With Alex and Rueben. 

Since it’s round it can also be hollow. Like an endless, gaping cavern sucking in seconds, hours, and minutes. And it can also be full. Rich and deep with so many tones and layers. Sometimes it's overwhelming. There’s so much going on at once, and you can’t stop to dissect it, comb through it with a magnifying glass. Events volley with one another. They repeat themselves. Over and over. Time can be slim and delicate. Like a silver thread, or a violin’s string. It lulls you in, makes you pay attention to every detail, every movement. Until it ends. And you’re left confused. Wondering: where did the time go?

 

This is a piece that I wrote during Writing with Alex and Reuben. So much fun!! I highly recommend. 

1. Preheat the oven to Dumpster Fire. 

2. Gather ingredients, you will need: 

- 2 cups of N95 masks (use old, overused ones for best flavor) 

- 2 cups of hand sanitizer 

- 3 cups of loneliness acquired from staring at your friends through your phone 

- ½ cup of awkward zoom meetings, (add the ones where no one turns on their camera for extra flavor)

- ½ cup of election stress 

- ¼ cup of Netflix 

- ⅓ cup of elbow handshakes 

- ⅓ cup of toilet paper shortages 

- And finally a dash of giant cicadas 

3. Grab a dented, misshapen bowl and mix masks, hand sanitizer, loneliness, and zoom meetings together. 

4. Next, add in election stress, Netflix, elbow handshakes, and toilet paper shortages. 

She dreamed of someone who couldn't quite be placed. 

Someone who flitted through her dreams and left moonlight on her pillow. 

Someone who peeked through her bedroom window and left handprints on the glass. 

A face that could be seen in everyone. 
With a familiar wink of an eye or twitch of the nose. 

Someone who drew secret messages on the walls of her mind 
and left her to decode them. 

Someone with eyes that seemed to track her wherever she went.

She dreamed of someone from her past life. 

Someone who couldn't quite be placed.
 

Maybe that's why we are the targets. 
It's easy to ignore the scars 
when you can't see them. 
 

We watch-each-other 
watch-the-other 
through the window. 


Inspired by The Sun is Also a Star and All American 
 

if i cry in the shower 
it's like the tears aren't even there