Twenty-four

I need to write right now
I need something real
Something solid, something stable
Something that does not dissipate
Something to bring me back to the ground
Stop my head from dancing with the dark
And I spend so much time defending myself
From those fucking vicious thoughts
That always enter the crevices of my brain
I’m scared, bloated with fear
Crying out for your mother when you’re twenty-four
Is just not appropriate anymore
Nor is asking her to cradle you
I’m too big and old for that now
But not grown up, not grown up at all
And she once told me that when I was born
I came out choking on my own faeces
Swallowed it when I was in the womb
And they couldn’t lay me on her chest for a good twenty minutes
That’s why she thinks I have trouble with loss, with losing
Because my first few moments of life
I was eating my own shit, crying out for my mother
And it is funny
Because that is usually how I end up when relationships end
And a girl once called me a misogynist
Told me I was hard like a man
That I needed to be gentler with her
Gentler with myself
And I was, I swear I was
My mouth was so full of love poems written in saliva
And my heart smiled like a baby with soft gums, no teeth
I was so open the whole world could fit inside me
And some days it still does when I get fidgety
You see,
Girl
I’m trying to be here, stay present, fucking breathe
Remember what Buddha would say
F-f-f-f-fight not flight, fight not flight
But sometimes I get scared of my own heartbeat
The way it thumps, the way it wants
Wants you
Wants my mother
Wants peace
Wants the tangible
Wants to not want anything at all
But this organ has pumped my blood for twenty-four years
Survived irregular and rapid heartbeats from late night panic attacks
Survived times I was damn sure it had broke in two
And now I know that whenever I need something real
Something solid, something stable
Something that does not dissipate
Something to bring me back to the ground
I will call upon my heart to lull my fear
And it will

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