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Monologue 1

I. Damn.

I left for too long… kept retreating to the bright white space in my head: A nonstop Pulsing Raging Argument between what I know

And what I don’t…

I spent too long in that space / holed up against the flesh of my loved ones / latching on to the complex veins In their throats and arms I smoked And smoked And cried

And … the soil in my plant grew dry.. The stalks began to yellow, the color deceitfully bright for the damage it caused

Soon individual leaves fell limp Oxygen failed to reach the very ends of thirsty petals All of the flowers had fallen to places I couldn’t see


I was gone too fucking long.

This plant, and the one on the other side of my room Both of them—lost to the fog of my habits.

Where’s the water?

II. Whew. Shit. Bitch.

If I pour too much, I’ll drown them both—Reggie and Betty I call them.

“They” say when you find a person near starvation or dehydration—you give them small amounts. You gently wet the tongue with a few drops of water.

I step out of the haze for a minute.

Once I lift the blinds, I remember that the sun is warm on my skin.

Here are my few drops of water and kind words to you.

III. Affirmations for my days look shaky at this point

I step out of the whirlwind and fall back into it Tripping on shit I certainly didn’t put in my path Shit I’m struggling to move out of my way

To give them more weight —I speak to these budless, utterly resilient plants

And in the end I ask them for courage As I take the first step to healing them

I like to use a round, black pair of scissors that I own

— They remind me of me —

To remove that which is dying And kills everything around it.

#growth #healing #plantlife

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