Day.3

We sat so long
the creased sweat on
our shirts dried
clean and new again.

8/16/2015
Riley Welch

XXXXX

I laughed too much.
So much.
Maybe it's not enough.

Is it a cackle,
or a giggle?

Why is a cackle evil?
Or crude?

Because it's from a witch,
or spirit?

I would argue,
they should laugh too.

Someone once let me know
all this laughter
was too much.

But to me,
it felt like substance.

Something to fill
the hollow of a lack of execution.

Something to validate
and give my emotions
some meaning.

Tears streaming
laughter spouting
like joy
expressed aloud.

8/17/2015
Riley Welch

Softened

I sliced through words
like white bread.

Soft.

There was a tear.

I consumed so many
words.
In one day.
In one sitting.

I have to take a breath,
and expel them.

At a thousand words a minute.

I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry.

This is how it is when you fill anything up.
It runs and runs and runs,
my teeth clatter and
reconnect.

And I cannot take in another syllable.
I will burst.

8/16/2015
Riley Welch

Did the Weatherman Tell You

Heat crept in
and I sloughed off blankets,
like layers of dead skin
that I no longer needed.

Cold Sweat Clinging.

Less sweet
than that of spring,
and on the back of your neck,
less satisfying.

A cold front was said to be sweeping through.
Highs only in
the 90's.

I laughed
defeated
and hot
and pointed to a million places
on the map.
All a million miles
from the scorching center
of the globe.

8/16/2015
Riley Welch

Cliff Hangers

What used to be fresh
rotted
out from under me.
And I fell
16 stories
to what felt like my
end?

I don't think death is the right word.
And fresh couldn't
hold me
up any
longer.

Soft
and squishy
like so many ideas
I had once
that were flushed
elegantly
down a drain

with a garbage disposal.

One whir -
and goodbye.

8/16/2015
Riley Welch

Silence

Hey little whisper,
so sweet
so smooth.

Trickles down glass
slicker than water
delightful
and fickle
so sweet
and so little.

Riley Welch
8/15/2015

3rd Floor Up

The days started
getting slower
and faster
simultaneously.

And I lost interest,
But at the same time
they raced and I couldn't see them pass.

And the women behind a big desk let me talk,
and I told the truth
But I also lied.

And didn't mention
that maybe I just thought
this was the new constant.

Because the truth felt too much like
something that could make her
absolute.

But she handed me
a folded up paper,
over and on itself.

With the words
[   ]
laced across the top.

And it felt fake
and I felt fake.

And it felt oversensitive and
overzealous
and meant
nothing.

...

But heaviness hung over my face,
framing it,
like those bangs, I tried to grow out,
when I tried to grow up.

Riley Welch
8/12/2015