Dana Mitchell

wet wool
Dana Mitchell

a week ago
my room smelled
of dairy rot ‘n’ armpit
a different part of the roof leaks
my drunk hand
damp, drip, eyes rolling

I spend twelve to two
scrolling, drop
old videos, drip
expired selfies
dropped my shoulders tonight
planning out the, drip
apology texts and emails
trickling now

I told her
I don’t know how to help
all she said back was

It’s 2am, I search
How to deal with a difficult friend drip
pin eyes,
she was disappointed
I told her to fuck off, then
the internet tells me
this is a DON’T
I think
is nothing in this world kind?
and stay up listening

In her attempts to reconcile the problem of the self as alien, Dana Mitchell writes about the search for meaning in the trivial and common occurrences of her daily life.