Doctor Says

Doctor says it’s bad
For my sleep patterns,
That blue light washing my face
In the night.
That’s all we are now
Alien light spat from a glass screen and
A cell phone buzzing scream and
Emojis filling in for
Your face.
Itching in my fingertips to feel
You there again.

Doctor says it’s bad
For my moving on patterns,
When I can’t help the slow spreading
Smile and fast spreading insect texts.
That’s all we are now
Messages that we slingshot
To some quiet calling moon
Only to have them
Land like falling stars
Hot and dizzying on our
Separate bedspreads.

Doctor says it’s bad
For my heartsick patterns
Not to keep my promise…
I said I’d wander until I know what I am
But that’s all that I am now.
A creature under anesthetic
Brought in with some highway
Hurts from a muddy car that sped
Away quick.
Wrap my head in a cone, doc
I’m sure to rip these stitches out

 

Artwork by Alex Oswith

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