word girl’s verse

i needed a nook to store my writing; it seemed comfortable here, so i built a nest & began to compile blankets of words to keep me warm. if you live for art, you live to feel.

[wordgirlsverse]

skeletons in the attic; elephants in the bathtub (1.6.25)

Alicia DiGi

you can shove all of the skeletons in the attic & climb down the ladder, but

they’ll clatter back down, following when it’s least convenient.

smiling their bashful, toothless grin, you’ll have no choice but to decide:

coerce them back up to the attic, or sit down & have tea;

break bread.

the elephant knocks on your door & plods into your foyer

soon after you’ve led the bones into the closet of their choosing

(because they were too feeble to make the climb up the ladder).

you allowed it reluctantly, because what a hassle it’d be

to sweep up & dispose of individual bones. & with what time?

you’ve enough in your cup, we know. pass the pot.

do you take milk in your tea? (booze?)

once again, two options:

attempt to conceal your new house guest in the upstairs bathroom & disregard,

or invite him to sunday lunch

to chat & familiarize yourself with each other.

you can force the elephant into the bathtub & slide the shower curtain closed, but

the shower doors are still glass.

you can outrun the week, but sunday will always catch up.

the closet door popped off the hinges. bones everywhere.

inevitable.

[wordgirlsverse]

the art of observation (1.5.25)

Alicia DiGi

over the weekend, i went to a concert at an obscure,

dingy theater in the Middle of Nowhere, Brooklyn.

i wasn’t familiar with the opener or the main artist,

but i was happy for the invite & very curious of what i was going to walk into.

for three hours, we sat in Ikea-grade chairs in a space with no heat.

there was only fifty available tickets, & the show wasn’t sold out; there were twenty-two attendees.

for the first hour, we conversed—

having seemingly-too-normal conversation with the performers.

everyone went around, telling the strangers that surrounded them their names & fun facts.

i would have preferred pressing myself against the wall [becoming the wall ?] &

just listening, being of no contribution to the discussion.

two eyes, two ears, & a mouth that did not want to be used.

the people i sat in such close quarters with on this friday night were unlike

the people i tend to associate with, i admit. but all judgment & negative commentary aside,

i valued having the experience of being put in a scenario that i wouldn’t have found myself in

on any other day.

it was interesting to become like them them for a night & enjoy music as they would.

despite it contrasting with my personal taste, that didn’t take away from my pleasure.

silently witnessing the interactions of like-minded people as the odd man out is quite

a different setting for me, & it was peculiarly intriguing.

i was able to compare these audience members’ mannerisms & speech habits in such a short period of time.

all were very alike, aside from physical appearances, which was expected,

considering how underground the artist was. the smaller the following,

the more likely that the fans will have commonalities.

music brings people together & allows them to step into the minds of others;

provides clarity & influence.

that night, i borrowed other perspectives, which helped me better understand my own process & line of thought.

further, listening to small, modest (but hugely talented) artists do what they do best is inspiring

& always invigorating.

fuel the fire.

[wordgirlsverse]

a perfectly ruined thing—metamorphosed (1.2.25)

Alicia DiGi

trigger warning: SH reference

my hair is not shiny. sometimes i say the wrong thing.

i no longer have straight a’s or much of a concept of my identity.

a few weeks ago, if i made a mistake, i would have cut myself to feel better.

(it made sense at the time.)

my handwriting looks better when i’m focused, which is rarely. i used to be a lot of things.

i used to try to appear like even more things. & then i guess i turned the page & it told me that i could just be myself

instead of posing as a person who’s impossible to maintain.

i’m messy & i’m human & i’m trying to put into perspective for myself

that being asymmetrical & mismatched is really cool.

we are all products of nature, yet we still question—& even deny— our beauty.

you were created from her, therefore: you were intentional (regardless of what they tell you).

you weren’t ruined when you decided to live as yourself.

you were reborn as something old, but also entirely original; brand new.

[wordgirlsverse]

Half-remembered dream (12.28.24)

Alicia DiGi

Last night I dreamt of red orange candle flames & blurry dimness.

I think I dreamt of roses & gentle kisses. You were there.

You might’ve brought your sweet words with you, & your soft chuckle.

Your wandering hands were searching for my skin.

I thought I might’ve shifted away, & I might’ve said “no,” but I don’t specifically remember that part.

I don’t remember if the sound after that was laughing or arguing.

Then again, maybe the source of light came from under the door (not candles)

Maybe the red of the roses was blood dripping down my thigh.

You were definitely there, but maybe your words were sour & your chuckle radiated greed.

Maybe your threatening hands put pressure on my neck for a moment & your kisses weren’t so tender.

I was never into that kind of thing because I always thought that there should be a distinct boundary between affection & violence.

Love shouldn’t ever hurt.

Now that I think of it, maybe the blurry dimness was a result of my high suggestibility (heavy intoxication).

Maybe that cloudy quality came from my glazed eyes, not my imaginative mind.

I only half remember, but maybe it wasn’t a dream.

[wordgirlsverse]

flics (12.24.24)

Alicia DiGi

when i inspect photographs from my younger years,

i don’t remember who was standing behind the camera telling me to

say “cheese,”

or where it was taken.

i don’t remember how i was feeling in that eternally paused

moment in time, or if i said “cheese.”

i do remember that i wasn’t an unhappy child.

i do remember that i was sassy & dramatic,

& that somewhere in between

this picture

& that one,

i picked up a lot of anxious habits.

i know for a fact that before i picked up habits

like shiny stones & shoved them deep in my little pockets,

i was authentically myself.

there was no disconnect between

my thoughts versus my actions

or

how i seemed versus how i was.

as a kid (even if it didn’t last long), i was free.

no decision was fate-altering & i would worry about

all the big stuff

when i grew older.

well i’m older now

& all the stuff feels big

& i carry more stones

in my pockets than i can fit.

but i’m proud of myself in every photograph &

i’m trying to be better.

(my pre-school teacher said i could eat all the goldfish i wanted—

straight out of the box—when i was older.

but as a teenager,

i don’t like eating all that much,

so the idea doesn’t have the same appeal.)

[wordgirlsverse]

Poetry, summed up (12.23.24)

Alicia DiGi

Poetry is designing the most beautiful house blueprints,

just to step foot on the newly purchased plot of land

& realize that the only building materials you’ve been offered

are doors & broken slabs of glass.

It is to lock yourself in a room

to wrestle with deep feelings & fears & questions that cannot be answered;

your only defense a pen with only half of its ink remaining.

The quiet room has mirrors all along the wall & on the ceiling.

Nowhere to seek refuge from your reflection.

When the door unlocks itself & swings open,

you walk out in no hurry,

because in the time you spent “trapped”

to roll around with a half-inkless pen

& a few crumpled sheets of paper,

there was discovery.

You emerged feeling a little less unsafe;

a little less uncomfortable with your place in the world.

Instead of bleeding cuts

& bruises,

pages filled with words you didn’t realize you had in you.

[wordgirlsverse]

THE COLD (12.23.24)

Alicia DiGi

When the temperature drops to the low degree

of winter & my teeth ache like they could

fall out any second &

my extremities (would) acquire a bluish tint

(if I were really real).

Just like when the water in the bathtub was

so hot that when it washed over your feet &

coated the bathroom tile,

it felt freezing cold for the instant

before it burned & blistered your skin.

On days that feel like that,

I would really just prefer to stay in

because it makes me feel too human when my nose runs & my

fingernails split.

It reminds me just how fruitless our finite existence can be,

if we were to talk about it in earnest.

It reminds me that I am sentient— & not in the way that I like—

when I’d rather just forget.

I don’t welcome that discomfort.

This is real & it is not forever,

so I would rather stay home & just allow

those unfortunately real feelings to envelope me

& not let myself cry. (it is too cold.)

[wordgirlsverse]

ON PASSION & HOW EVERYONE EXPERIENCES IT IN THE EXACT SAME WAY (except that’s a complete lie) [12.23.24]

Alicia DiGi

i will write for hours on end, even when my hands are sore & my fingers are calloused

from my grip on the pen

& i’ve been drained of any & all valuable ideas because

“that’s what people do when they’re passionate.”

they do what they love with such frustrating drive that

it makes them wonder whether or not

it’s worth abandoning everything they

used to love.

even when i’m tired & want nothing more than sleep, i will write

because if i don’t, somebody else will steal

the life i want for myself.

passion projects will never be anything more than that

if you don’t work for it

as if it’s your only option.

this maddening hunger that they speak of.

you must not be cut out for this

if you don’t resonate with these words.

can you hear me?

i said it isn’t good enough.

even if i feel like another sad song will ruin everything?

even if there’s nothing left?

even if it will kill me?

[wordgirlsverse]

FEAR OF CHANGE: borrowed title pt. 1 (12.23.24)

Alicia DiGi

To love someone against the odds is to be afraid to ruin an

already-unlikely thing.

Every discussion, disagreement, compliment, insult—

magnified.

It all means that much more, because you can’t push back the thought

that none of this should have taken place to begin with.

Unintentionally tip-toeing over invisible (or simply

not there) eggshells.

To love someone against the odds is to be afraid of every minor development,

but to love someone against the odds as an unhealed individual is to be

petrified.

& then you’re kissing them for the last time

too early

with no explanation

because no matter how you explain yourself, it will never be palpable that

the invisible (or not-there) eggshells

were actually shards of glass—

that were actually very much there—

& one can only let themselves bleed for so long

(or maybe they could voluntarily bleed forever, but they become acutely

conscious of the pain that

it will inevitably cause their lover in the future).

They absorb all of the self-materialized anguish for so long

that it feels eternal, &

eventually they must surrender.

Not for themselves, but for the person they care infinitely for.

It would not work,

because I am me &

I am afraid you are too good.

I can handle the change now, but soon the

surface of our skin will burn

every time the other makes contact with it.

& I will love the sting because it will be your fingertips

touching me, & you’ll tell me that

you can learn to like it.

But I won’t hear of it for any longer, because I know that it’s fucked.

So please, next time you touch me,

do not ever remove your finger tips from my body

because it cannot be over before it’s begun.

The stakes are too high.

The stakes are love.

Leave a trail of flames on my torso &

down my legs.

I’ll welcome it for as long as I can.

[wordgirlsverse]

DISCLAIMER:

OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE NOT AS THEY APPEAR.

-Alicia DiGi, 12.22.24

[wordgirlsverse]

“Tell them you love them.” I cannot, & here’s why:

POEMS THAT AREN’T [NOR CAN EVER BE] ABOUT YOU

——————————or anyone for that matter

I cannot write about people, because to do that I must first

recognize that there is a part of me that feels gravitationally inclined towards

wherever you are

(a fact I could never admit).

I wish that I could spell the syllables of your name

on my tongue

in pen ink,

but that isn’t allowed, because I am here.

& you are there.

Maybe if you

were here or I was there,

I would be able to say more of what was on my mind .

Then I might give myself permission

to write pretty words for you (because that’s what I’d really like).

I don’t know if you maintain that same

point of view,

but ignorance is bliss,

blind,

& I may be better off sightless.

I’m okay with that for now.

-Alicia DiGi, 12.22.24

[wordgirlsverse]

On the soft cadences that never leave our minds (12.22.24)

Alicia DiGi

Sometimes in the late nights when our phones have died,

along with the desire for meaningful interactions,

we allow excess layers to drop from our bodies &

submerge ourselves in voices.

Soak in the memories & all of the feelings tied to them.

Everything.

Perception of past [memories] will never be “accurate”

depictions of what used to be.

I much prefer the romanticized versions it was

so I can look back over my shoulder

without weight being applied to my heart.

Delicate whisperings into sweet & salty skin.

I won’t be able to remember what was said; I won’t be able to forget how it was said.

Unfeigned gentleness.

Tone of voice would never be lost on me.

What was once everything is now nothing at all.

& not in a melancholic way, just in a way.

Occasionally I will look back over my shoulder, &

I will be able to smile & be thankful for my perception of the memories.

I will soak in the pool of pretty words & tone of voice

& I will feel no regret when I step out to face my present.

[wordgirlsverse]

2:41am

are “lasts” better when you know they’re “lasts,”

or when you’re unaware?

[they will haunt your tortured soul regardless]

-Alicia DiGi, 12.9.24

[wordgirlsverse]

journal entry (12.4.24)

i desperately wanted to write something beautiful today. i couldn’t think of anything. am i losing my depth, or am i losing myself within the vastness?

let me be great. i know this is what i was meant for. (nature doesn’t make mistakes; what made me?)

maybe tomorrow. i don’t feel much of anything. i don’t understand. one day.

-Alicia DiGi

[wordgirlsverse]

journal entry (12.2.24)

i crave writing more than i desire the ability to do well. i understand what it feels like to be willing to leave everything in your life behind for the chance to succeed making a living of your passion. i loathe the idea that “growing up” is unfortunate. it should be the most beautiful thing in the world. why do they try to take this from us? why do we let them? what’s the point in living a live where you expect every day—after you reach a certain age—to be worse than the last? adults often talk about how hobbies become neglected when they make the decision for “life” & “work” to be synonymous; interchangeable. i detested that idea so much that a fire inside me began burning (out of anger or fear or something else), & the smoke whispered to me, telling me to dedicate my life to something i could work on for the rest of my life. since that undefined day, it’s been my unspoken mission. with that, my unspoken fear: that the fire will burn out just as quickly as it lit. & then who is a person if their purpose has left them? everything sacrificed would then be worth the same as it seemed in the very beginning when they could not see your vision. it would be nothing, & then you would be nothing. so you write with incessant hunger. never forget what you’re doing this for. keep your eyes up ahead even when your writing comes from behind you. because in order for all of this to be worth it, you must first succeed. only the most intense pressure can turn rocks to diamonds. you are not special. you are using what you have, hoping to transform it into something special.

-Alicia DiGi

[wordgirlsverse]

Revised version of “Polypharmeceutical” (11.24.24)

[formerly titled “HARD PILL TO SWALLOW”]

Alicia DiGi

feeling stressed? depressed? clumsy? useless?

too human?

we’ve got a pill for that.

take it all away until we’re no longer a “who”

but a “what” &

we are smiling outer shells, lacking the ability

to cry

because we’re “doing fantastic, and you?”

stop medicating children.

they may not know what they need,

but neither do the salesman with the white coats (& phds)

who dole out the dosages.

they do what they have to do to take their wife & children

on weeklong,

pre-paid

cruises somewhere tropical

& to keep remodeling the bathroom.

do they need another car in the driveway? beach house down south!

my brain may be different from yours (or perhaps

more alike than they acknowledge),

but i wouldn’t rather it tamed nor groomed.

to become reliant on the monthly refill of your orange bottle

is to give it the key to your

control center.

i’d say “go crazy” but…

[wordgirlsverse]

FEARS & WISHES (11.17.24)

Alicia DiGi

it is forever a fear of mine that i may simply be a sad person— & that

there is no larger explanation.

lately my hands have been clammy & my ears

have been ringing & maybe

i am as i’m meant to be, just like this.

i fear that i truly don’t understand myself anymore—

i used to think i did, but so much has changed

& i just cannot keep up anymore;

i’m not as smart as i used to be.

i fear that i won’t ever find peace within my soul

because my brain & heart are always preoccupied in a realm of war.

(it is all they know.)

I’M SCARED THAT I WON’T EVER FIND HOME.

i wish little triggers didn’t cause such big setbacks &

i wish that i could breathe deeper.

some days i used to wish that i took it further & that

the bad days were worse.

nowadays i mostly just miss what it felt like when i was me, but i

don’t remember what it was like or if i’ve ever actually had that experience.

i wish i had less reasons to cry, but i think

that i still would cry, even when it

seemed like i had none,

because that’s

how it is when your mind is

a hellscape of unconquered fears & unfulfilled wishes.

i wish i knew for certain that

things would be okay,

but there must be a reason why i can’t convince myself

(they keep telling me things).

(what if there is no “it’s okay, i got better”? what if i’m not destined for a cutscene to success?)