Witching Hour

September 25, 2017
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It’s always between 10 PM and 2AM when I text you.

Kinda like the witching hour except I call it
Panic Time (*jazz hands*)
Cause see that’s the time where
I haven’t quite finished my homework but I’ve run out of juice
And the nervous builds up enough that I can’t do anything
And I’m just frozen, staring my muji pen resting on a blank sheet of looseleaf
So I text you.

I’ve always sort of wondered if you can hear whether I’m actually crying or not
Taste the saltwater on the inside walls of my lungs
In the shaky wording of my text messages
I wonder if you know how it stings my alveoli,
—a quiet, cool burn
(I can feel the holes ripping in them
   I don’t hold air like I used to)
i have no idea how you’re not tired of me by now
Not just cause i’m not worth talking to,
Cause i’m always walking into your room and dragging My Problems
like a cat drops a dead mouse in front of you and looks up for
   Validation
i leave my trash all over your house and i always leave you Dirty
i swear one day you’re gonna wake up and see my blood splattered across your bedroom wall
me,
      Crumpled
   on your hardwood floor
My blood staining the clothes you leave all over everything and the first thing you’re gonna think
is “I need to stop going to sleep early.”
That’s what you always say
When you wake up and see my emotional baggage slipped and fell into your DM’s
“I need to stop going to bed early.”
And then you’ll wonder how you didn’t hear the gunshot.






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