tamara

I don't exist I am a figment of my own imagination I sit here clutching a phone with fingers over my eyes I itch, I breath, I wrinkle my brow in anticipation of being born I have already died and no body saw it I waitI exist in sound alone a scream stuck in my head, in my throat in wide eyes and tight mouth I'm nauseous with inaction i'm blank as dry heat I waitI am a zombie in a never ending movie I have a little doll house that lets me move up and down and up an down I can get dressed all by myself I waitI wait for time to pass I wait for the next distraction I try to do what people tell me What if no body tells me anything I waitI breath messages in morse code I read the barometric pressure with my eyelids I orgasm on a timetable I scratch a fetus into my skin I climb a ladder I waitI edit the crack in the ceiling I dry heave the alphabet I comfort the keyboard I stroke the wooden floor I sit perfectly stillI watch the objects move around the room in time lapse photography I'm never going to fall asleep but it doesn't really matter because I'm not even really here All these unplugged cables, one end sitting there, waiting connected on one side and not on the other waiting silver round and square and not there objects needing an operator bloated, cramping, old waitingI'm full of unacknowledged birthdays and no shows and rejections and silences of yahtzee and empty and don't careI vomit bumblebees and sickly elephants I solve riddles on wooden bridges I lasso the sunset with cowboy daddies and pass up the ceramic wheelI grow flowers from wooden slabs I plant family in textured shadow I float in my box of space I walk on feathered beetles I neglect I ignore I hide I do not exist I wait