|my very first DD!|
|so you think you can love me and leave me to die?|
virgin thoughtsi. i hugged him from behind in the darkness:
i was groping sturdy skinny stomach
and fantasized about slitting it open-
becoming the huntress,
and he was my half dead doe
whilst his hands calmly rested on my own.
ii. she's hearing silenced voices, but she is not ill
like she made me feel.
within our suffocating sick talks
i forgot how to breathe-
and now she is struggling to do it through concrete.
iii. you make me feel like shit,
and then yell at me for feeling that way.
your candycoat is becoming more diabetic and thick
every fucking day-
if you had testicles, i would have already made rings from them.
hammocks, hikes, hands, hues (of you).dreaming of hammocks
and hikes, hand-holding
and your hips pressed
i am dreaming.
i am dreaming.
that is so strange
and so new,
but so you.
hold my hand
into the forest
where you are king,
where i am foreign.
lead us into this space,
and let us dream.
a quiet testimony
to lie awake
in this lucid place,
where we control this,
finally hold this.
a place where my
reveries are delighted
by your face.
my dreams have missed
this place. and they've
shaky vibratoanxiety looms
while i am nude in my bed,
ruminations of you stuck
in my cagey head.
"what do you want me to be"
in a voice lilt instead--
i don't know about you,
but i think i wish i was dead.
a childhood cadence
falls back on mine,
how could i ask you back
in this strange of a time?
but you're the keep-coming-back-to
-kind-of-person i can't ignore,
the human i miss most,
when your form walked out the door.
but your silhouette always teased
around the frame,
if you listen closely, you can hear my pleas
around your name.
i won't forget lips,
nor everything else
that had You on my cheeks,
but i'll do my best.
you're the howling in woods of lunacy)
i will forget your astrology talks,
how you explained my whole self
just through stargazer's midnights,
and the tiny fear in the eye
when you realized that i have a Pluto in the 12th house:
the best paintings are never painted,
and some words decompose better in saliva
than in brain.
i won't forget
those endless lines of fruit of having a lot to say:
doubts and thoughts,
pseudonyms and asterisk-less cuss words:
because it was the only friend i needed,
and yet i never gave it chance
to start breathing.
easter drivingand i’ve been thinking about the
final breath too much i’ve been
(dreaming about it)
wondering how to google it without
throwing up red flags
i remember graffiti on a
billboard i saw last year—
“humbled by the idea of death”
i think about that too
crushing blow to the head i
marvel at the violent ones i
wonder just how long it takes i
ponder the pulsing blood i
push it out with my fingers i
wrap it up in neat bows i
crave it, lacing up my
arms with it
tight rows little red life
grows from it — i wondered about the
pills yesterday — my phalanges crawl
through my nails and over the counter
return with bottles to swallow whole
i am branches made of glass
soaking up the sun and slicing through
clouds, absorbing the sleet within and
diluting the mind with it, godlike arsenic
sliding along th
callegrafiathey gave me paint for this reason—
plastic wires tangled with good luck charms in her pocket,
empty handed but for a sketchbook (one page
a tribute to van gogh's blue, the rest stained with gray)
the dusty jeans and tattered shoes
mark her as a
rebel, reveling in the un-knowledge of the flawless.
here's what it means to have scars:
crouched on an uneven platform, holding
half-recklessly to a metal gutter and
marking feathers on tarred dust
tal vez todos los artistas son
delincuentes / maybe all artists
are criminals &
maybe my meaning gets lost in translation
(but that's the point of being flawed)
from this low on the ground it
doesn't seem so new
where new is a synonym for what's left without
no hables esas palabras / it's all third-person now
the second i saw _ _ _ i knew i had never escaped
there has to be some reason i love the sound of the word ayúdame
nervous ticki. i curse you some nights, kicking the soil around your grave and daring you
double fucking daring you to be alive somehow
ii. i heard you at my grave. my god your face has lengthened, your jaw was so slack and wide and i nearly lost it
lost it like you clearly already have.
i want to tell you i do. i'm alive, in most ways at least
iii. your mail still rattles my door of a morning hiding in with mine like it can sneak past me
past my dulled senses and weakened barrier.
everything is numb.
vi. a shadow. thats all that i am now, friend.
i have tried dialing numbers or scrawling words but they don't come.
imagine that, me, out of words.
i am not myself anymore
v. solitude will be the death of me.
i'd swear to god, but you've ruined that too
you logical bastard.
what you sow (one)
I was genetically (pre)
disposed of, my common senses
the first to go
looking for my glasses
(which were sitting on my face)
I'd been told of time:
"for the love of God
can heal all wounds,"
but I had to learn for myself
that borrowed faith
will tear the stitches in it
they say the fruits of labor
never fall far from the womb
that bore them, and I am nothing
if not my father's daughter
so I am the hypocrite v2.0 &
I fall far short of my mother's pious soul.
matchlesssometimes people leave and you just
can't do anything about it.
they leave behind a chill in the air where
their body warmth used to be
and you can light fires and candles and
shine spotlights in place of them
but it will never feel the same.
i learned that the hard way.
he decided one morning that he was ready
and i saw it in the shadows in his eyes and
i decided i wasn't ready to let him.
he brought kerosene in
water bottles and hid
matches in his jacket pocket and tried to burn the bridges
but i put them out with extinguishers and
painted over the burn marks so i could pretend
they weren't there.
he felt bad because he didn't want to hurt me and
i felt bad because i didn't want him to be hurting but
i didn't want to be hurting either even though i knew
one of us was going to get burned by the end of it
(there shouldn't have been any question of who
it would be, but
i was desperate and i didn't want him to leave)
so there was no communication.
he did all he could to bring i