Imagine a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Now imagine using the digipak as the bread, and photographs of my bedrooms as the peanut butter and disk as the jelly. Now imagine massaging peanut butter and jelly on the outer surface of your eardrums.
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This is a poem
to help you sleep.
When the nights are rough
and you don't dream.
reflect the ceiling.
This reoccurring thought
is killing me.
There is a dot on my hand left from a permanent marker that makes me think of the girl, attached to the pen, that put a mark on my skin.