along with all of my heavy

Some days I feel as if my two poles are soldered together, but magnetically opposed. I both want desperately and reject constantly and
it’s
becoming
exhausting.

I advise me to pick my battles.

I wonder what winter will mean to me. I eat plums and pistachios. I develop an affect. I squeeze. I number things again.

I want to color and smash playdoh between my fingers. A constructive (deconstructive) fist. I want to read Little House on the Prairie and crush pine needles so I can smell Christmas. I want to start a fire and pick a bouquet of dandelions. I want to squish mud between my toes and then immediately run under a waterfall to wash the rime off. I want to stand out in a summer downpour, arms outstretched, heart beating in the tips of my fingers and in my tongue, reduced to organs and bone ‘cause my skin’s washed away along with all of my heavy waiting.