HAPPY NEW YEAR, PANIC ATTACK OUTSIDE MY HOUSE, COME THRU

on an island, fog smells like the same ocean

     i’ve drowned in a hundred times, but tonight

          reeks of a relapse cut w/ gunpowder. i’m well

acquainted w/ fireworks, like blowing out

     candles or watching my sister explode thru gene-

          rational neurosis on the stage, never filming

against light. but right now, i hold a diet coke can

     full of ashes (a galaxy of cigarettes for every

          unseen star) & it reflects nothing. i listen

to soundcloud demos of a friend who discovered 

     the only tone of voice that soothed me & never

          reached out again. i watch videos of a dead 

lover pack a bowl, rewind when they laugh

     & pause just to say: sry for taking so long.

          if yr still waiting, i’ll be down soon. 

the group chat is asking if things are okay &

     i have been lying. i only burden god; prayer 

          only works bc no one needs to answer.

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Cover photo by Bernadetta Watts