Today I Am Sad

My tongue tastes like dirt
and is sluggish as a swollen earthworm.
Bones ache and arms flop uselessly,
noodles that stick to every surface.
I look in the mirror and see a can of red spaghettios,
but food doesn’t interest me and neither does color.
I’d like to paint my meatballs yellow,
but I can’t figure out how to use a brush.
Today I cannot make myself care about customer service,
or washing my hair.
My lips are dumbbells
I’m not interested in lifting.
All other emotions are on leave.
I opened my eyes this morning and everything was static.
I cannot find the remote control.
My mom would say it’s because I drink sometimes.
I should go with that. It is easier to say “I drink sometimes”
than it is to say “someday I will die
and everybody I love will die
and everyone who is alive or ever will be alive will also die.”
My ex would say I should exercise.
I should exercise. My mind knows I should exercise,
but when I get home tonight I will go straight to bed,
because falling asleep is a bit like dying.
Weird how fear of death winds back
to desire for death
because oblivion implies the meaninglessness
of all our actions
and if actions are meaningless
then why keep acting?
Despite my questions, I continue to act.
Despite this conundrum, sometimes I can’t.
I am ticking down the minutes
until I can go home and bury myself
beneath blankets.
Perhaps I will fold origami cranes first.
Scratch poems on their wings, hang them from a tree.
They will rustle in the breeze.
Words will flutter above people’s heads, waiting to be picked.

Darla Mottram is a student at Marylhurst University. Her poems have recently been featured in Elohi Gadugi Journal and Eunoia Review. Her current hobby is making friends with crows on campus.