Poetry
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a poem inspired by the tweet shown.
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How many times can I write a rhyme? Until my mouth sours like a lime and I crumble under the divine?
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Dream states are altered consciousness and I know this but the theory is immortalized as I slip into the abyss. a white noise app fills the silence of the night. I pick familiar sounds to soothe my slumber-a crackling fire, a heavy rainstorm, roaring city streets. They envelop me in warmth and nostalgia. I drift,
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When you already feel a million years old in your soul, it’s hard to want to grow old. My chance to watch the world in wonder has already walked away from me. Now, I look with grief stricken eyes.
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Accessing my higher consciousness is a rather particular process. I picture my name. It holds so much power. I imagine my energy, a feeling like rods of cold glass, coursing through me. I begin to buzz. I am aware of my clothes touching my skin and I can taste the inside of my mouth. My
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When she disappears, I fall at her feet. I surrender in full. Her invisible tides pull me into myself.
Lashanda Forsberg 