trust is not a verb that my brain knows how to act on.

a brain dump as a poem.

Photo by Alyssa Strohmann on Unsplash

i have not felt like i’m real

ever since death hit me

like a sandstorm that

still leaves me cou

ghing up dust in

stead of trust

is not a verb

that my brain

knows how

to act

on

god, i didn’t mean to stop

believing in all of the

concepts that once

kept me from

burying my

self knee

deep

in psychology

psychology fascinates me until

it is thursday and i am in a

therapy session during

which my therapist

asks me why i

do not think

that i am

worth

anything

worth

is determined during formative

years but all i did was form