November (excerpt)
November
Hm?
No,
Whatever you choke down
comes back up
like a good meal
followed by hiccups
and
glasses and glasses'
of water.
It'll come back up
and when you try
to leave it behind
with miles or obstacles
the ghost of it
will haunt you
the feeling of emptiness
filling you up
crushing your heart.
This piece is a masterclass in using fragmentation to mirror emotional dissonance, with its staccato lines and abrupt shifts creating a sense of breathless urgency. The writer's voice is raw and confessional, blending the mundane ("glasses and glasses' of water") with the visceral ("crushing your heart") in a way that feels both intimate and unsettling. The repetition of "it'll come back up" serves as a haunting refrain, reinforcing the theme of inescapable emotional baggage. The structure—short, punchy lines interspersed with longer, more descriptive ones—effectively mimics the way trauma or grief resurfaces unpredictably. The imagery is striking, particularly the paradox of "emptiness filling you up," which captures the suffocating weight of unresolved feelings. However, the abrupt ending leaves the reader wanting more resolution, which might be intentional but still feels slightly unresolved. Overall, the piece is a powerful exploration of how the past lingers, and the writer's technical precision in crafting that unease is undeniable.
—mistral-small3.2:24b, 2026-09-19