It used to be that my favorite part of baths were the whirlpool
That twisting tornado of water
Spiraling out of control as the dirt and soap disappeared
Into the darkness
But what if instead of water and dirt
It was our life?
What then, would be draining?
Emotions, and youth
Decisions and mistakes.
Memories all swirling away into nothing.
That must be what if feels like to get old.
As the last drops of warm water escape
Leaving only the cool air on our wet pruny skin.

Thank goodness for soft comfy towels.

queen of hearts
the sun sets on her tongue
the night sinks into her eyes

king of spades
his mouth brings a myriad of painful pleasures
his hands can hold the world

grasp her gauzy waist
whisper swirls of diamonds that will encircle the heart and render it frozen and glowing

slide your hand under his skin
weave your milky way through his veins and render them fiery and frightening

queen of diamonds
she speaks only in retributive tongues
she loves desperately
the clouds behind her lips are gathering in a storm

king of clubs
he speaks only in the language of power
he loves fiercely
his garden is thirsting for rain


swim in rapturous glaze of mind
experience this plethora of feeling
let your fingers get pruny and divine the message inside the lines


sink your teeth into a stalactite heart, you’ll find your mind explodes with colours- a death worth the last image that consumes you before you’re gone.
the rings of saturn are chandelier crowns and strawberry throats; so close but never touching.
let the lightjuice drip down your spine as you contemplate the reasons you’re still on earth

Sand water and sky was all I could see,
As I dipped into the big blue sea
My toes could feel the comfort of the beady sand,
While the salty water ran through my coarse hands.

The saltwater rushing in,
Wave after wave after wave,
My pruny feet sinking in,
Wave after wave after wave.

Inhaling the damp, fishy scent
Absorbing the mild golden rays of the sun,
Hearing the lulling waves disappearing onto the shore,
The journey of the high tide has now begun.

I’m barely keeping my head above water

Other people
Made it look so easy
To backstroke through their days
With nothing to worry about
Except pruny fingertips
And what swimsuit to wear

It looked easy

Only after I jumped in
Did I realize that
I wasn’t born to swim
I wasn’t born with the ability to float
I wasn’t born with the talent to tread

Maybe I’m just dense

With a brain full of blanks
And a stomach full of stones
I’m guaranteed lungs full of liquid
To drag me down
To make every moment a living hell

I was born to sink

I often think of quitting
Letting the ocean consume me
Swallow me whole
As the waves seem to be
The only things
That ever wanted me

I’m barely keeping my head below water.

You're probably laying on your back staring at your inviting ceiling, slightly transparent,
Swirling together your collected pool of hopes and dreams
Just like me
At this very moment.
You are listening to indie music,
And so am I.
Sometimes I imagine we are listening to the same song simultaneously
So we can think the same things together,
Disregarding the time zone difference.


I just wanted to tell you that I would have walked across the gym with you at graduation,
You would have cried with me,
We would have hugged and held hands,
And we would have celebrated until our eyelids puffed and our hands became pruny
From our laughter infused tears.
We would have drank soda and not beer after the ceremony,
Because we never needed anything but ourselves, and maybe a camera, to have fun.
We would have changed out of dresses into sweatpants and flip flops, because we never needed to impress each other.
We would have driven in my car and screamed out the windows
Until someone called the cops and we ran away into my bedroom for safety.
My mother would have had a hug waiting for you,
A cake for us,
And a smile for eternity.

We would have made our way upstairs
To lay on the cheep Home Depot carpet and stair at my own ceiling, just as inviting as yours,
Counting the stars through the drywall we pretend to be invisible.
In the background,
Distanced enough for thoughts to still process,
A playlist of us beats in a fuzzy muffle from the dying iPod dock,
The kind of music you can't help but get high from.
We would talk of our plans and our futures and pretend they weren't separate,
Dreaming of sky scraping homes and earth-bounding trips to Asia and Europe,
Finding our destinies and origins here and there,
Then coming together to share our experiences.
And when things get too sad we would just enjoy the music and remember everything we had, everything we have, and everything we will lose.

I guess what I'm trying to say is listening to good music makes me miss you more than my poetry can begin to express,
And I'm so selfish for wishing you never left me,
Because I know you're happy there and I'm happy here without you,
But I'd be happier if we were listening to music under the same invisible ceiling.

I watch her watch herself,
pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach.
She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that,
twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers
and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection.

She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually,
and pulls out a tube of mascara.
Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror,
applying her armor stroke
by stroke
by stroke.

She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror),
so I look away for a moment,
and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black
Like ink spilling from a fountain pen.

I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach
And she can tell I’m still looking at her,
so she murmurs something like acknowledgement
and brushes past me.
Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead,
red and pruny
from the hot water seeping down the drain.

Shouldn't be doing this
Super hungry
Won't have lunch
Until I go home
In two hours
My hands a pruny and withered
Like raisins
From doing the dishes
And praying for those
Desperate enough
To come into my mjnd

Roses in a pitcher in a window at a suburban Starbucks. They’re still wrapped in the plastic from Publix. A koolaid pitcher. A kind gesture from a stranger to another.

Eating my roommates left over pastina (the kind he makes that I like with carrots and kale) room temp out of the *** while I load the dish washer

While I’m loading the dishwasher it begins to rain (ga is turning into Florida) but I like how the rain looks out the window in front of the plant cuttings I have rooting on the windowsill

The plant cuttings in the cute jars I don’t need to collect but still find joy in collecting

New leaves and how good it makes me feel to talk to them

A *** of tea I bought for two, and even though I’m just one now I can almost always still finish the ***

Peppermint

The tin of loose leaf jasmine, its golden color, and the instruction manual that comes with it. How to make jasmine tea.

Spending as long as I want in the grocery store or famers market

Produce makes me really happy
So does the bakery
So does planning a meal for friends
And so does buying flowers

Crying listening to npr in my car (this American life or wait wait don’t tell me)
Crying feels good sometimes and these programs make me feel closer to my mom even though we’ve almost always lived far apart

Making bread. I can only make focaccia right now and I’m generally bad at baking. This is teaching me a patience that I think I can have else where

Sunbathing

Time in the water til you get pruny and your skin feels slick. This is a specific summer joy in a lake or a river
Maybe the ocean

Public pools and the way little kids really have no spatial awareness
When it’s hot in the summer a lot of parents/babysitters, grandmas, etc bring the little ones into the sun for a few hours. Wading through the 3ft section dodging little kids with goggles that come up gasping for hair all snot faced

The idea that maybe I want kids one day
It’s a nice
Daydream

Talking about daydreams
Making big plans that you aren’t sure will happen, but there’s still joy in the giggling delusion you share with friends or lovers or strangers

The train, the light in the train, the knowing you’re on a train
I mean even Marta

Mushrooms. I think chanterelles changed my life. Brought me back to the day time. Brought me back to connection not involved a dime bag or 20 shots back to back. A day time connection. A natural one cultivated at the roots of oaks.

Oak trees are old.

Black berries grow everywhere in Georgia. I find them hiding along the fences under overpasses. Hushing traffic with their glistening dark pearls and red thorns. I’m not sure I’d eat those but they still bring me joy.

Honey suckle. I thought they smelled like jasmine so I told everyone I had jasmine in my yard. I was wrong. I love the smell and how far it travels. I love the tea I make from it sometimes.

Ash’s giggle and brightening personality
Danielle’s fierce loyalty and dedication
Mias softness, wisdom, and determination
Emma’s playfulness, her creativity, and wanderlust

Theo laying behind me on the couch
Using her as a pillow

Dog birthdays

The guy riding his moped with a plastic rain bubble around it on boulevard

Trying to place a prank call but giggling too much to finish saying anything. The adrenaline hits me despite my failure.

Sadness is like water.
You sink beneath it
And it tells you to stay.

When you do,
it shrinks you
And wrinkles you
Until you’re nothing more
Than a clump of pruny skin
In a bathtub of sad.

To be honest
I’m usually happy,
I’m the happy me everyone needs.

But when I break
I crack
I cry ‘cause I’m human,
I hold the sad like a blanket.

But the blanket is ice cold
Yet it still takes a while
To throw it off my shoulders.

IT IS THIS TIME OF YEAR

in the bowl
on the table contains
the last of this seasons fruit
laying this way and that
puckered and pruny, they go
uneaten, they wilt in silence
unable to provoke an appetite
in anyone in the house
who happens to walk by, so they
remain unattended, staying put daily
as they bear witness to a souless sun
as it listlessly tries peeking
through the window hoping
to shed some light on a situation
beyond it's control
still it is unable  to withstand
the whole day, it is this
time of year when
the sun fades quickly
seeming in retreat always, as
the stars once again
remind who is in charge

By Michael Perry

I wanted to stay home today
Take it easy
Cook in the candle light
Clean with the music on
Paint what the mind want
He wouldn’t hear it
Picked up my satchel
Dragged me by the hand
To a fair
Blazing heat
Naked shoulders
Tousled hair
Incense
I took it all in
The air smelled funny
The people looked so happy
I sniffed the drink I was holding
I lost him in the crowd
But I wasn’t worried
I found him at a kiosk
Chatting up a sticky looking thing
She had wispy hair and questionable taste in clothes
Looked so out of place
She handed him a flower
He dropped a coin in her palm
I waited till he came to me
This is for you
Looks weird but she said it will bring change your life
It will give you all the things you want the most
I laughed
Didn’t believe in all that *******
The ugly translucent thing would be just sitting on the mantle
He kissed my fingers
Even that felt off
Dropped the flower into my bag
I was ready to go home and shower
He didn’t stay the night
He left the flower by the window
It rained heavily
He got lost in the rain
His mangled body never came to me
I didn’t believe it
I didn’t talk to anyone for the next 30 days
I painted till my fingers bled
Scrubbed away till I felt clean
Drank till I saw stars
My mother called with bad news
The cat had passed on
In a pool of her own blood
I didn’t ask any questions
I showered
Let the water run till I felt pruny
Didn’t hear the bell ring
Didn’t hear the pistol fire
Didn’t Care
I toweled off and sat in front of the fridge
Eating everything in sight
Clawing into the food
It all tasted salty
The lights went out
I am alone now
I feel weird