push the sheets off your skin, it’s starting to make you sweat.

one foot at a time, ground to the white carpet. squeeze it between your toes.

open one shutter.

then the other three until sunshine cuts lines across your face.

realize there are some things you don’t have control over

& that you just work with what you have.

someday, you’ll realize that it all makes sense,

clicking together like bricks in new house foundation.

your foundation is still there, still sane, still strong,

just a little creaky because of the gusts.

watch the dust particles dip in & out of the beam of light

melting into your bed.

smile.

light rosemary incense until the smoke

tickles the hairs in your nose.

is everything going wrong?

no, no.

you might have put your time in the wrong hands,

watched it slip like ash in between fingers,

but now you know those hands are too porous.

find some better hands.

revert to those you know are steady,

always waiting to catch

when you crumble.

pick up your pen,

write.

draw the swarm of negativity in your head,

scribble until the page cuts through to the next with ink.

don’t stop reverting to what you know is true

& consistent.

write.

tell your sister she looks pretty,

kiss your mom’s soft peach-fuzz cheek,

get flowers for the next customer in your line,

tell your best friend you love her.

tell yourself you love yourself.

you won’t die young so stop trying to manifest it.

drink tea,

feel it slowly streaming down your throat

& warming the bowl of your stomach.

sweet chamomile, always bringing in the sides of your mouth

with each sip.

you don’t need anyone else to justify

accept,

please.

just yourself, & sometimes

company is nice.

(1/15/20)