“like food processors” by Julia on her couch

Wednesday January 16, 2019
8:21pm
5 minutes
On Becoming A Cat
Emily Mitchell

In the middle of the night I hear you whispering sweet words into the pillow
They’re for me
I kiss you back to sleep
I stay awake wondering about the light dancing across the ceiling
I was tired before this and
now maybe it’s denial
The past few days have felt impossible
Each of our hollow seems to be bouncing off every surface in sight and you might not be rubber but I’m definitely glue
I wonder at the dancing light, the collective sadness seaping into my skin, the way waking up never arrives without a headache anymore

“like food processors” by Sasha at her desk

Wednesday January 16, 2019
6:31pm
5 minutes
On Becoming A Cat
Emily Mitchell

I don’t know what to say when I see you
so I don’t say anything I don’t play that
game anymore the one that all the pleasers
before me pressed into my cells a cookie cutter
a yearning for love

I don’t want to say anything to you
when I see you so I don’t say anything
I feel my heart beating and the music
doesn’t distract and you must carry the
weight of your selfishness
that is your bag of rocks to shoulder

I don’t care about rudeness or pleasantries
in this space I don’t care about hurting
I care about honesty and being true to
myself and my belief that even a hello
can be a lie