tangled limbs
after **** rips,
and finger-tousled hair.
hushed laughs
follow soft snores
and maybe—
"i love you more."
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 12:41 AM UTC
you are not dead yet.
still, i hope to mourn you someday—
a better version of you, at least.
i read somewhere,
"i alter you
every time
i remember you".
i hope to remember you well—
not much, not often.
sometimes i hope
i won't remember you at all.
the child in me grieves and stirs,
and tantrums at the thought.
there must be a part of you
worth remembering,
or maybe a whole lot of you
worth forgetting.
something to be salvaged.
you are not dead yet,
but i mourn you in life.
guilt boils in my stomach,
and you've fallen asleep on the couch.
i must remember
to turn off the stove.
i must remember
you are not the version of you
i feel guilty for.
i try to think of her,
but think of you.
i try to think of you,
but i get her.
and i stir the *** long enough
to remember to turn the stove off.
you are not the version of you
i feel guilty for.
you are not dead—
not yet.
Dec 25, 2025
Dec 25, 2025 at 10:44 PM UTC
calla, niña.
mamá ya no está.
calla tu llanto,
que no te vaya a escuchar.
hay un muerto por cada intento,
pero nunca escribes del miedo;
que desde pequeña te enseñaron que
nunca alcanzarás el cielo—
fuiste hecha para fuego eterno.
con siete años entrabas en pánico:
¿cómo contemplar una eternidad quemando?
¿un mundo que continúa mientras ardo?
¿esta corriente de pensamientos
a la que llamo conciencia, cesando?
aunque esta última
es mejor que la alternativa, ¿no?
entonces,
ya bañado en sudor y sin aliento,
tomas riel de este cuerpo,
aunque tropieces en el intento.
( el agua hierve,
el fuego arde—
simplicidades
ante crudas realidades.
topándome con la certeza:
ya no temo al fuego eterno,
sino a seguir viviendo
dentro de este cuerpo muerto. )
Dec 25, 2025
Dec 25, 2025 at 10:40 PM UTC
anxiety is a dog drowned in a puddle
and i wish there was a wattered down version for easier consumption,
but you stuck it in a bag and threw it for a tumble;
burned your throat with all the screams muffled.
now it's the weight of the act on your hands.
you killed your anxiety and took yourself with it.
is it still a weight when you don't have any hands?
yes, but [no]t yours..
Dec 25, 2025
Dec 25, 2025 at 10:34 PM UTC
entre juegos, me dice que se va para alaska. que la vaya a buscar allá.
entre juegos le digo, llegaría al fin del mundo para encontrarte...
me mira curiosa y me dice, "pero si el mundo es redondo, *** no tiene fin."
con esto quiero decir, si el mundo tuviese fin, llegaría hasta el por ti.
con esto quiero decir, haría lo imposible por estar ahí.
Dec 25, 2025
Dec 25, 2025 at 10:27 PM UTC
i took your socks.
i don't remember if you wore shoes—
but just before they took you,
i took your socks.
i don't know why.
you didn't need them,
but i regretted it instantly.
later i bought you new socks:
long, cable-knit ones to keep you cozy.
to keep you warm.
i'll never forget.
Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 5:10 PM UTC
[do you have a suggestion?]
my brother pauses, turning to me;
"because you're full of great suggestions,
but you always say them too late."
he means no harm by it,
yet how do i put a name to this silence?
shutting up in compliance?
—i shoved cotton down my throat,
now i can't breathe—
when did the echo become louder than the scream?
maybe it was vegas, twenty-nineteen.
maybe i was never allowed to dream.
how do i speak my voice back into existence then,
when i can no longer remember its sound?
whispers, snuffed out so many times i've lost count.
[i forget.]
Jan 13, 2022
Jan 13, 2022 at 11:24 PM UTC
swallow me, bottomless pit;
let me rest under the breadth of your expanse.
light a fire at my feet, celestial abyss,
and we may watch the shadows dance.
did you hear icarus burned for the sun?
will i, too, take the shape of a star?
[set ablaze, with heaven just out of touch]
i found a chasm at the edge of my stomach,
and i knew the darkness by name.
"welcome home, uncertainty.
i'm so glad you came."
i will learn to call you my friend.
Jan 12, 2022
Jan 12, 2022 at 12:55 AM UTC
the tug is light,
like string caught on a bracelet.
but this is his home
and these are his scissors,
and he cuts you off.
your plea is but a mild annoyance
and these four walls seem smaller alone.
they ***** you out
and that tug..
that tug is a knot caught in your throat
being washed down with liquour.
he doesn't tell you this
—not in words his lover can hear—
but he hates you.
you are small
and he hates you,
and that lover is a friend
who doesn't know to save you.
you are small and alone
and he hates you.
you'll remember to believe him
when he jokingly says so.
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 3:10 PM UTC