01 I am not asleep anymore
02 My body is moving underwater, slowly
03 The resistance of pushing each leg against the salt water
04 Warm and cold at the same time
05 It comes up to my knees and sloshes over thighs
06 Up to my thighs and splashes up over the waist
07 I venture further away from the dark shoreline where I awoke
08 I am not asleep anymore but I am cold
09 The pain of blood flow returning to my legs
10 My skin burnt from the sun and rough sand
11 The salt water stings everywhere
12 My heart is on fire
Feb 22, 2023
Feb 22, 2023 at 9:06 PM UTC
It is raining, and I am in love.
I love the rain
and I love myself.
Your bed is hot and I am lying in it.
The rain is warm and I am dancing in it.
Your touch radiates heat and I am curled in it..
I am in love with my skin and my folded-over belly.
It is raining.
Your heart beat does not exist to keep mine alive and I remind myself of this as I listen to every soft sound made by your body.
I am in love with my strength and all of the fear behind it.
It is raining.
And I am in love.
Feb 27, 2022
Feb 27, 2022 at 6:30 PM UTC
your fingertips are branding my skin, scorching bright dots white-hot across a swath of my naked back
blisters form before i can even feel the searing pain rake across the path of your hands
May 25, 2021
May 25, 2021 at 3:14 PM UTC
A train sits idle
Driver turns off the headlights
Helps my night vision
Flying past cop car,
Headlights turn on in rear-view,
Turn off, I can breathe
Oncoming driver,
Flash my lights to warn them
Of deer or police
At small town train tracks
Car flashes brights at random,
Left me quite confused
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 5:10 PM UTC
I want to die out here with you
I want to decompose in your arms
our flesh slowly growing softer, and softer as our skin rots and our organs decay
our bones slowly growing closer, and closer
until our leg bones are not separated by leg flesh and our hip bones are not separated by hip flesh and our hearts seep together over our rib cages and our skulls press together, chin to forehead
dry leaves tickle our feet and the cool wind soothes our hot bones and the earth covers our clasped hands
until they can no longer tell who was me and who was you
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 7:13 PM UTC
1. Headlights glowed like cigarette ends in the twilight
2. As soon as they winked out in the warm, weedy field, and the harsh engine noise snapped into silence, I began to cry.
3. Father stepped quietly towards me and I sniffed as I smelled the earth I was digging, the sweat I was dripping, the carcasses I was covering.
4. Beneath the distant moon Father paused, watching me sift dirt over the remains of two limp goldfish.
5. The morbid scene glittered as moonlight sparkled off my tears and the half-buried scaled.
6. A small tribute to their salty home.
7. As if on cue, the wind ruffled the tops of the grain in the neighboring unshorn field; the undulating stalks mimicked the ocean.
8. Their grave remains unmarked.
Oct 14, 2020
Oct 14, 2020 at 8:29 PM UTC
My legs are heavier than I am used to,
Except it feels so familiar,
I think this happens every night when I try to run in my dreams,
And its like forcing each step forward through thick syrup
Hardening wet concrete
A rapidly thickening slurry coating me.
I am weighed down by it, down on my knees now, hoping that grabbing the ground and pulling myself forward will increase my momentum
Ripping out handfuls of grass trying to get the earth to treadmill beneath me
Clay under my nails, more slurry, more layers,
The earth is a part of my lungs now
Wet pink webbing hardening from the outside in
Thin tendrils brittle and breaking off, sun-dried,
Cracking and dusty and making its way up my throat
A river bed of mud consuming the space in my mouth,
I reach in with my fingers and scoop out the muck and throw it but it keeps coming,
Filling and refilling my mouth, faster than my fingers can dig it out
Thick like dentist's putty, coating my tongue and teeth like taffy
The fear is always there
The fear mixed with the drowning feeling, drowning in wet clay,
Suffocating and afraid
That it will still be the same even when I wake up
Sep 10, 2020
Sep 10, 2020 at 8:53 PM UTC
i want to be
a cat wandering aimlessly,
not caring about it next day
not caring about its next meal or its next hunt
the sun is my goal
warm golden puddles
of cat fur
Sep 3, 2020
Sep 3, 2020 at 4:37 PM UTC
i cant remember what it felt like to be a child
there are vague grasps at a feeling
of security, not yet shaken
in adults who are able to know and to do and to decide
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 7:10 PM UTC
I used to conjure flames from my fingertips without a thought
And used them to scorch foreign poetry into your skin
Sep 2, 2020
Sep 2, 2020 at 4:27 PM UTC