Interview with Poet Camile Tricomo

1) What is the theme of your poem? Depression and Dissociating 2) What motivated you to write this poem? I wanted to write from other perspectives 3) How long have you been writing poetry? I have always liked writing 4) If you could have dinner with one person (dead or alive), who would that be? Christopher Walken or Amelia Earhart 5) What influenced you to submit to have your poetry performed by a professional actor? I thought it be interesting 6) Do you write other works? scripts? Short Stories? Etc..? I just like to write. Sometimes they come out in a story. Sometimes a poem. 7) What is your passion in life? I have many. Top three are airplanes, rock climbing, and music. Watch the Poetry Reading:
Performed by Hannah Ehman POEM: I’m lying in bed, and the curtains are certainly drawn. The sun is peeking through every crack, and peeling my eyes open with morning. I don’t wanna get up. I wanna fight this morning with every blanket and roll over I have. I could win with my fists full of air punches and leg kicks. I can feel this sleep haze consume me and it’s impossible to shake. I wanna curl up and ball the fuck out. I’m not feeling lazy but I’m feeling so incredibly lost that I’m nowhere. I’m in a white room drowning above water. I’m in a large crowd screaming with no voice. I can’t move. I can’t breath. I can’t live. There are no walls but I feel trapped. Where am I and how did I get to this point? Who am I anymore or ever? Is this normal? Am I normal? Getting out of bed and dressing myself feels like an accomplishment. As I walk down the busy street the world feels muffled. It’s as if I’m underwater and people are shouting at me. All I can hear is the gargled existence that life is out there somewhere. Should I swim deeper so I can’t hear them? Would I ever need to come up for air? Do I even want air anymore? Can I just evolve into this is ness and form some sort of gill like substance to stay alive down here in the grey mute darkness…? I snap to someone in front of me snapping their fingers telling me they want non fat milk with no foam. I blink twice and respond with a blank nod. Barista life is a hard place to work from the disposition of a rock. My entire body feels so numbly hard that if you slapped me, I couldn’t notice. Yet I feel so brittle that I could shatter into the cup I just dropped. Fuck I did it again. Pay attention. Stay here. As I look around the small coffee shop, the only thing still moving is the perpetual background tunes that you can count on. The same tunes that play at every artsy hipster haunt. Everyone is staring. Heck everything has suddenly sprouted eyes and also is staring. Can I shrink or should I just melt at this point. Suddenly the world around me freezes. All is quiet aside from those constant background tunes. Everyone is stunted in mid action. As I walk around and wave and scream at faces, no one will wake up. No one will move. Now I️ feel truly alone…

By matthewtoffolo

Filmmaker and sports fan. CEO of the WILDsound Film and Writing Festival

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