bed poem

i slip in and out of 
consciousness
writing as an attempt to
free myself of this weight
of this pressure on my chest
bone crunching, soul smashing
it’s a cacophony of
color
all black and blue and red
a smattering of sound
all shrill and agonizing and haunting
i am writing as a marathon runner
tired, out of breath, in need of a refuge
from the thing i willingly became
a pool of fabric
ensnares me into its trance
and i don’t want to leave this heaven
this dungeon
i am writing as half of a human
dragging my sickly body across earth’s surface
the allure of memories pulling me forward
sometimes i wonder if this vessel
has seen too many floods
if it is a shipwreck show
for the whole world to see
i am writing this as a ghost
watching the world continue to spin
in my absence
a song i used to love
is playing in the headphones of a girl
walking the street at night
she’s wearing long black boots
and has wavy hair and i tell myself
i hope she is not fated the way i was
i am writing this as a ghost and i cannot find
my grave
i cannot find my home
but this song is good
and this girl is beautiful so
i will ask her to carry me home


                                                                                              v. estrella 2/11/25