I’m pulling out grass, wishing to feel closer to you. I convince myself that it’s okay, that I’m better, because I’ve learned the beautiful craft of distraction. I make sure there is always sound vibrating off my walls, never a dull moment in this skull. Numb it with herbs and every time a voice goes low, drown it out with stronger voices, any voices, just never music. Or I’ll end up right back where I began. I’m pulling out grass wishing to feel closer to you. But instead I inhale, blink back tears, pull myself off the ground. It’s easier to carry on feeling nothing at all. Featured on Hello Poetry