Moldy Straw

Written by Keri Stewart
Art by David McEachan

nitpicking the antics of my sentiments.
pathologizing every feeling
as if it were an essay graded on semantics.
figuring out “why”
instead of existing in “what”.
consumed in the mold of logistics
and its radioactive must.
inhaling the toxicity of forgetting to feel—
forgetting to rest in temporary sensations.

i pretend to feel with every poem,
jotting down phrases —
as if it would heal me, as if it would speed up the process.
i try to find therapy in the straw language
as the words peel back my vulnerable skin.
engulfed in the noxious avoidance
of trying to play recovery god with linguistics.
kneeling before this literary performance,
the disappointment of no concluding act.