Keeping inkskinned on the back of my notebook.
This poem makes me feel not so alone.
sometimes it feels like
in my head.
does that make sense?
like something is growing over my thoughts
until everything has this cotton-soft
haze that nothing
and once one thing slips,
i start forgetting things i made
four notes trying to remember.
i get slow and
and the real me
screaming behind this silkscreen
and my body just keeps on
I get it. I’m from a different country that only just so happens to be a US territory, and you don’t think I’m capable of doing anything right. I get it, now please leave me alone, thanks.
I just don’t want to bother with it anymore. I’m tired of trying to defend myself from the “all hispanic people barely speak english” stereotype and I barely even have the confidence for it anyway.
The more I think about how badly I’ll probably mess it up and the trouble I’ll get, the less I want to teach.