juice (working title)

this is the part where there is no juice left to squeeze.

I am empty and coffee doesn’t count and I’m thinking about donuts and crunchy leaves and hating the rain but wanting the lushness

and when I think about my body and how ripe it is in the summer, wanting to burst through this skin, to feel the sun from the inside, I think about what it does in the winter.

I shrivel a little.

I crawl inside my ribcage and there’s an odd echo and I think about food, about found family, about family family, inviting people inside because I don’t want to waste this space I’ve been keeping bare inside me and maybe if I let people in during these cold wet times I’ll be less prone to loneliness. 

The forever struggle of the introvert.

I want to be loved but not perceived.

It just doesn’t work that way.

It takes guts to have a house party in the fall. 

I will make you leave your house in the rain and you can leave your coats in my appendix, I’m not using it anyway. 

My heart is a natural DJ.

The branches of nerves and its synapses are like traveling fireflies throughout the dome on my body.

I’ll even swallow a disco ball for you.

There will be refreshments and I will say “hey, this is where I live, isn’t it cool? The library is up the steps of the cervical, c4 is a bit wonky so don’t fall but feel free to browse and borrow what you like.  Don’t mind the messy drawers full of song lyrics and movie quotes. I can’t seem to get rid of those.”

Is this how to survive winter?  Open your body up like a circus tent and invite everyone to the show?

Is this how to keep warm?  Say hello, come inside, I’m trying new things. Let’s figure it out together.