Missing, Missing Persons

I’m waking up dizzy in an empty nauseous sort of way,

where the blood is flooding from my head to my stomach,

I know if I try to go swimming I’ll faint in the water.

There’s only so much blood pumping through these veins.


I haven’t cut my nails in a month and now they’re curling over my fingertips

but from straight on you can’t see the bowing.

I have claws for my own protection.


Sometimes I think I don’t breathe deeply enough

like the air I take in can’t fill out my lungs,

and I’ve only ever used them at maximum capacity when running for dear life away from you.


But as I come to the staggering point

right before I keel over,

I feel a sharp cramping

from most of the discrepancies

seen within interpersonal relationships-

of when to connect and disconnect,

how to gracefully miss the mark

of the absence in a missing

and barely feel the restless shuffling

right before falling

at the bridge of being your own person



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