I’ve been dreaming about things like crashing cars. Eating embers. Getting better. The other side of anger. Your grandmas kitchen. Waking up in my childhood bedroom. Nothing feels real- it’s all compiled in my mind and hidden away on dusty shelves. What’s the point of holding onto a memory if no one else besides you deems it sacred? I’m chewing on broken words and still wonder why I taste blood. Im trying to find the other side of grief, but when my head gets above water, another waves hits . I’m preserving my peace in ways I never thought- like living in dreams. Holding sheets above my head and daring myself to suffocate. Counting pieces of my broken teeth. Tempting the road into caving in. Maybe I have more power over these things than I realize. Maybe I’m the product of a gloomy season. Maybe I’m just dreaming. -AMT©️