I laid back on my bed and existed.
I looked up at the ceiling fan,
I saw the dust on the fan,
and I wished I could eat it
Cause I was hungry.
I saw the flower-shaped nail coverings on my panel ceiling.
I had my hand behind my head
and that felt good.
I had my other arm bent at a right angle,
and my legs we totally relaxed.
As they hung off the side of the bed,
And I thought back on my day.
As I existed.
Where I played music,
Ate cold refried beans and cheese
Out of a tortilla boat,
And drank sake bombs.
Walked my dog.
With no particular order or number of times to any of it,
By taking deep breaths,
by not letting my mind move,
avoiding any thought of my day,
I wrote an entirely different poem
than this one you’re reading.
I tried to stay still.
I tried to only exist.
By forgetting everything I was trying to remember,
Escaping my clutches on myself.