Popcorn

There is a different version of me that leaks out,

dripping ink on these pages,

hollow and raw,

saying all my thoughts.

A flow of words that may have never left my head,

It's 9 o'clock on a Saturday- 9:00 AM, that is, when Mom made lemonade for the annual summer party at our house. Fresh-squeezed lemonade. It is sitting in a cooler on the small table in the tiny house in our backyard. 

We need more joy in this world, 

we need less of this depressing sense of life, 

when everything around us is so beautiful. 

But we only look through a gray lens to see it. 

her voice sounded heavy to her, filled

with the unnamed emotion

everyone had told her to expect. except

she hadn't. she'd rolled

her eyes at the shiny pamphlets and blog posts

I'm an artificial human

Thanks to the drugs

I'm full of artificial feelings

And artificial love

Real emotions hurt

But I'll be alright

So long as my prescription

Is refilled on time

You aren’t what I need to breathe like a fish out of water

Aren’t what I desire nor the sounds of laughter

That make me smile.