woke up and felt blurry, dizzy, barely
made it out the door;
Maybe it was particles in the air, maybe it was what I was breathing;
dirty floors dirty floors paint
peeling from the ceiling, couldn't breathe;
White noise, can't sleep just
the lamp, dark but not really dark, masks,
sleeping masks, dark, dark as possible--
hormones buzzing in;
I can't go to bed. I worry sometimes.
I'm not tired,
blurring insomnia, medicine in milligrams.
Dirty floors, cracks in the ceiling
Today I would have today insomnia
Sometimes I look at the clock.
I'm not sleeping.
Morning, usually it's morning, sometimes afternoon.
Insomnia, middle of the
Looking at the clock, going outside…
Remember I want you
to eat if you're hungry.
Remember what happened.
Your body is telling you,
you have to make yourself eat, you're
gonna be hungry.
You have to make yourself.
Emily Rankin was born in Riverside, California and attended Abilene Christian University, where she received a BFA in 2011. Her body of work deals with the tangled threads of human connection, liminal space, and the inherent solipsism of being one mind and body in the world. Her work has previously been published at bookpeople.com and in iPhone Life Magazine. She is currently based in New Mexico.