Xanadu
 

A cold empty desk— home to nothing but a single sheet of paper. The paper —just as empty as the desk. Has nothing upon it but a name. Tapping pencils and scratching my chin, waiting for the words to flow from the lead tip onto the page. The absence of ideas and inspiration— leaving me alone in the emptiness of my mind. Looking around the room to find something that can spark the imagination. But alas, few things stand out. A book A chair A poster Trinkets that tell a story. B

my womb is hollow, not now, nor ever, had anything of significance called it home. i am far too young, too innocent, to push forth life. yet, i posses such maternal compulsions? the urge to care for my creator is so strong. the urge to preserve his cadaver from further rot— to keep him safe. he is who derives from me: i am the comforter, his confidant, the secret educator. mirrors cannot perceive my age. honestly, i do not know how to tell, myself. for I do not know if age is

Scrolling through instagram— emitting blue light that illuminates my fixated face. Posts producing unrealistic standards haunt my mind as I aspire to replicate their portrayed phantom. The media recommending rigorous diets, exhausting exercises and putrid pills. These influences invaded my brain like a planned ambush. Constantly counting calories— constantly working out. Blue and white amphetamines suppressing my appetite— feeding into a lethal cycle. Slowly starving to death

The sweat seeps into my eyes. The safety belts force me to sink into the seat. The wheel feels weighted In reality it’s only two pounds. My foot feels the pedal halt. The engine seems silent but I know it’s screaming, it’s heat leaving a scorched mark on my elbow. The first corner appears as I rocket down the outside of the front stretch. I start to turn the wheel no more than 15 degrees left. I reach the middle of the corner. The left side of the kart skirts the yellow line

Everything, Everywhere Nothing, Nowhere Moments passing by in a flash Our lives are filled to the brim with them Some we barely think about Others we can never get away from— The shine of the sun The explosions of music while driving on the open road The cries for your parents after falling Do you remember the exhaustion you felt from your first all-nighter? Or the pleasure of eating your favorite food after having a rough day? These little things mean nothing in hindsight—