Sabrina Benaim

the evening, like two kettles of boiling water, we are laughing at all the same parts.
it’s tomorrow and we are in San Francisco, finally. after a day of being hol

anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town

depression felt obligated to bring to the party.

mom says try counting sheep.

my mind can only count reasons to stay awake.

two kettles of boiling water, we are laughing at all the same parts.

you played Grim Reaper

sad person trying to distract herself from crying. crying gives me a headache. headaches make me want to crawl into bed. crawling into bed is what sad people do.

i feel sad but i look just like everybody else

don’t like coffee. you like what it does to your body,

you like the way coffee makes your body feel. so you take your cream

& sugar with coffee. i’m not sure why you kissed me back

the first time. i suspect you

liked what it did to your body; you

liked the way my kiss made your body

feel

I live alone. Eight states and a border away from home. My cups are clean and upside down in the cupboard. I watercolor peonies instead of picking new wounds. When my tiny talk machine chirps, I do not always check it.

I bring my body,
perfect chandelier of teeth & bone,
to the altar of the bathroom sink.