Formless

FORMLESS

Written by Natalie Comfort

when i wake up in the morning, my mouth tastes

like metal and my eyelids stick, and my skin

feels stitched through my sheets into my mattress

i used to call this emptiness, but now

i recognize that it is the opposite, there is too

much to make sense of, and there is no emergency

stop, no brakes, no off switch, no time to process

when i walk home at night, everywhere i have been

before feels foreign, unnatural, like a familiar

movie scene that has gone off course in a dream

i violently try to fit pieces together, each experience,

hot and bright from friction, scraping past one another, until every sensation has been worn down into a grain

of sand, becoming formless, indistinguishable from each other