happiness makes me numb

so it happens that happiness
makes me numb
thoughts that start
while sitting at
the Village Court Apartments
the beauty was the art of it
watching the sadness peak
i couldn’t speak from so much shaking
a masterpiece
completed now it seems
that i am just a set of paints
it’s paining me to feel
this way but turn another cheek
and say goodbye
forever but you never
see me cry
the ending of a movie
the sadness in my eye
that make me alive like razors
slicing through the skin
it brings me back to earth
when happy feels like sin

 

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

Soil

internal destruction breeds
and precedes life, yet
I only ever noticed the beauty
each flower had to offer
forgetting the traces of time
embedded deep beneath the surface

do the soils feel such pain
as I do as we carry the future within us
together as unwilling hosts
to the beings not yet birthed
not yet breathing air alone

or do the plains of dirt
long to contain the procreation
of a waiting womb
searching for fertilizing substance
to fuel some future, unknown and still
nothing

an egg planted within
that never asked to be ignited
into pains of interior reconstruction
to accommodate another

the smooth, skinny flatland
not yet showing physical sign
of the rooted stem
but suffering sore consequence inside
is rid of its intruding plant
flushed out in pools of red
relieving the earth of mistaken obligation
free to remain
simply soil

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

Bedtime Stories

words spill out of my body
only in the hours in which I am so
sleep deprived that my senses
do not filter out my authenticity
with an anxiety to write something
beautiful, instead my insides turn
out and I am exposed for all
that I am in the least poetic sense

I crave being pretty poetry and yet
my lines only ever align in the time
which I am barely even conscious
breathing heaviness behind my eyes
forcing my hand to stroke the page
for only a few more words written
before I fail to stay awake
trying to grasp my aching wonder
suppressed into a sleepy mind

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

 

 

 

 

 

Reflection

skin stretches and pulls against the bones
protruding through my figure, plunging
out like a swan dive
off of the quarry’s edge, elegant and yet
haunting
because the starvation is tiring
and the will power left to fuel the swim
to shore is waning away
with the rush of the water against the winds of the land
and each meal mixed up in the blender beneath my ribs
before resurrecting to the place it once began
only this time leaving violently
between convulsions of hurling motions
as my head whips down as a finger
slips free making way
for the stream of self-hate to erase
itself from my body

only it is always there

with each glance at the slim reflection
rippling into the lake
pushing and pushing and pushing and
pushing
distorting the reality of my image and
as my figure dances with the waves
I can’t help but to believe
this fragmented, broken being
is the most accurate evidence of my appearance
that I have ever seen

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

 

 

 

 

 

 

On Being Bulimic

to vomit is really quite simple
when you normalize the feels
of the finger pushing further
down your throat to reach the meals

that you hate yourself for eating
but you couldn’t stand to starve
so you gorged yourself in garbage
until your stomach was enlarged

so commences daily actions
following three meals a day
jumping jacks to get you going
then your head whips down to pray

to the toilet as you’re hurling
waiting to start to dry heave
then you know that you’ve succeeded
and got all the fat to leave

over time you begin shrinking
but you never tell your shrink
wearing baggy clothes to hide it
growing weaker than you think

reading blogs on how to puke
but not following the advice
so you know it’s not a problem
tell everyone that it’s alright

 

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

 

 

twenty-two tabs open

what is earthing?
500 words a day
English literature jobs
Selena Gomez blonde
fishnet outfit Tumblr
Leo daily horoscope
short report- personal profile
natal chart report
“Steps” by Frank O’Hara
ram tattoo
free astrology reports
phd and mfa students
Frequently Asked Questions
Aquarius moon
feminist print art
Manifestation Secrets: 8 Manifestation Rituals
wrap a stone into a pendant
how to make cannabis topicals
Pinterest
what you need to cross-stitch curves
Fate and Furies: A Novel by Lauren Gruff
learn how to embroider letters

 

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

i am a cynic

so much so
it makes me sick
creating plaques
for winning
biggest critic

can’t seem to shake
these sorry thoughts
cemented in
my mind

i know it’s time
to stop
my somber self
keeps feeding
off of failure

manifesting
brings me
so much sorrow
to my soul

i think i was
born whole
but years of yearning
turned me
into axes

i’ve hacked off
everything that
was left
of happy feels

there’s nothing now
to live for
and abandoning
my body seems

to be the
only choice
that i have
left

(but leaving means
this body
dies . . .
maybe that’s for
the best)

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

metaphysics

don’t tell me i
don’t have Free Will
as you continue
taking pills
to numb the darkness
in your mind
keep acting like
everything’s fine
saying this is
how it must be
because you never
believe me
when i start to
speak otherwise
you don’t think that
i can be wise
without believing in
Determinism

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann

vacation with josh

i like the quiet mornings
when my thoughts are not enthralled
in the things i could be doing
straining stillness in my brain

now, thinking in this silence
of the book i had just read
like the voice used by the author
got stuck right inside my head

still i ponder the options
limited by my travels
i have packed some pens and pencils
a notebook and my sketchpad

i know i can do yoga
anywhere that i may please
how i love such activities
when they don’t need a suitcase

and we only checked one bag
when we flew down to Georgia
but i should probably shower
and get myself out of bed

i smell the coffee brewing
feel the pounding in my head
but the silence is so soothing
that i may lie for awhile

because there’s no agenda
beyond just simply being
at this moment and it’s freeing
knowing that this is my life

 

 

 

 

 

Angela Bachmann