Neil Hilborn
Neil Hilborn Poems
It is impossible to imagine a color you have not seen.
I can't call my mother because she makes me panic.
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The first time I saw her,
Everything in my head went quiet.
All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared.
When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don't really get quiet moments.
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Joey always told me, laughing, as though it were actually a joke, that he wanted to kill himself but it was never the right time.
There were always groceries to be bought and little brothers to be tucked in at night.
Don't worry, Joey isn't gonna kill himself twenty more seconds into this poem; it's not that kind of story I'm telling here.
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Clatter
It is impossible to imagine a color you have not seen.
I can't call my mother because she makes me panic.
When I say that I'm crying, what I really mean is that I want to cry, but can't.
Instead of dying: the jellyfish simply ceases to move.
Glass moves like any other liquid but slower.
Sex is another way of communicating with your body, like self harm or sign language.
I complete five crosswords a day because it stops the panic.
Trucks are downshifting on main street.
Most of what I do, I do to stop the panic.
I never cry about things outside of my head because they all seem so far away.
Hair is partially composed of cyanide, napalm is just gasoline and plastic. I am just carbon and bad timing.
If i were someone else, I think I would still be mentally ill.
It is impossible to imagine a color you have not seen.
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5/13/2024 11:13:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
