THE PART WHERE I AM NOT DOING OK
by Abigail Lee



I lay glued to the floor holding my breath
I lay on the floor and I do not move
there is no poetry to it
there are no figs or
authors with a plan
I am laying there and I
cannot
bear
to break the silence I built I
do not
dare
move from my deep bow
like the weaker child I am
stuck worshipping the
weight on
my chest
the weight
on my neck
the weight pinning me to the floor
I am laying on the floor
and
I am begging
for something better
and
praying for the air
to make dust into lungs
so as to praise a
feeling
so i can become a
being
oh,
dirty me
who is she
thinking that she deserves
the blessing
of
dimension.











Abigail Lee is currently miserable, but in the future will hopefully not be. She likes writing about loneliness, digital anthropology, love, and religious baggage, but is currently studying sociology and English at her undergrad. Find more of her at Grain of Salt Mag and wherever next she may turn up


@spaghtitty
    abigailmlee.wordpress.com/