Thresholds
A poem
That picture on the wall you're scared of looks just like you
I wanna bleed, I wanna hurt the way that boys do
-Ethel Cain, “Nettles”
things are quiet right now i don’t know how to feel or think about the things that have happened actually that’s a lie. i've never had a problem with that i could think and feel my way through a wormhole sinking into a multidimensional reality looping in and out of myself and i am accustomed to suffering for no reason and still the dust has not settled i suspect it won’t for awhile they say trauma trauma can take awhile to land can come as a thud or a slow drift a gradual heating i am the frog slowly boiling into a non-existence a distance future on a far-fetched planet flung out from a black hole in the form of an alchemical equation now tell me which part comes next
what is the shape of my grief /
Ethel Cain, still and forever
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