Feeling a fugitive state between white linens and odd pillows in a bed that is not my own.
Laying flat, slow and still, spinning webs as I sleep, because tonight I am finally alone.
Wallowing close to spheres light with burnt etches on the table, humoured by the lamp like a dying moth.
Opening the door to invite the city’s sounds to sleep but cradled heavily in god’s own cloth.
“Let go of it all”, a clumsy angel ushers me asleep, tone bored and aim not perfected.
I am just a guest and this bed is nor mine but at least I know my friend is protected.
May 20
May 20, 2026 at 5:50 AM UTC
Growing my hair out to let my looks become themselves on my body and face, I have moved across the world and been around these past few years forgetting every place.
It has been so much time now, 5 years and a few months and I can't actually remember you. I can't remember if I like you and if I loved you.
There is something that exists where when I feel alone I can conjure up some dramatic reunion or a text from your phone where we break down in tears and you fall into my arms. Maybe we will find love there. Maybe the time between us has ripped the space so that the paper tears don't match perfectly onto each other.
Or maybe it is because you were my famed pivot, a person that I was known for and known because of.
I don't miss you, as much as you can grieve a childhood- farming purposefully for a tear to form for some remembrance that you are possible of human emotion.
Or maybe I just think I should miss you, but I don't think that feeling exists as missing someone is not ego-inclined. There is nothing there but some breath of a rigid phantom, someone who's outline I could not even trace
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 5:28 PM UTC
I find myself existing above where everything else is.
I do see the cars gliding in heavy rain, painting me with white Hollywood flashes but I could confidently argue that they wouldn't cast a shadow behind myself. I find myself existing outside of my body and away from everything I can see in some muted soft space in between.
I wonder if it is because I turn everything into symbols or is it because I am 26 and just trying to feel different. To feel smarter or better or kinder. Is that the goal of all this? There is space between everything I touch and no ability to feel the jagged edges or cold surfaces underneath my fingertips. A numbing that would drive me insane if I wasn't so bloated and churning with random thoughts; some good, some bad. Nothing specific.
I lay on the sofa and notice the moon reflected in the large windows. Two moons, a nice distance apart and somehow the same size and light. The only thing that tells me that one moon is a reflection is some guttural instinct. A discernment. I would love to say they emulated the eyes of a cunning cat or some other great power instead, but they looked blank. But they looked at me.
I feel myself reaching the end of this current mind shift. The one where everything has a meaning or everything is connected. I wonder if it has actually poisoned how I see things but I understand it is a natural progression. Instead I am moving towards the prophecies that things just happen. People can say things without meaning, things can exist without history. Pretty existential and less poetic. It should be less freeing but at the moment it feels more non-sensical and there is less music in everything. Ironic that I should find bliss in less blissful things and I wonder if that is an excuse. My next thing should be to write something beautiful.
To fashion something that is delicate with an expanding and deflating tidal force behind it so strong you could feel it in the muscles of your tongue. Or how the knocking on the door in the night pokes crashes of adrenaline into the top of your chest and contracts your torso with sickly electric, charging your muscles to move and how we are in all fact some weird victim to this wet newspaper slurry and sewage mosaic of stone greys and denim blues all coming together as one when you shake your head but leave your eyes open. And we are just trying and trying to swallow what things happen to us and around us all the time
Aug 11, 2025
Aug 11, 2025 at 12:30 AM UTC
Ink powdered and illuminescent sparkling rain drops on concrete ground
Dashed and so divided
Drinking frizzante or other wine we can’t pronounce
Skyscrapers fuzzy in July rain and cloud
I need love, and show me her
Show me what I could be and what I am without, three ghosts of then, now and when
No chakra could prove this craving for sweetness on my lips
Do I miss July or do I need her?
Jul 26, 2023
Jul 26, 2023 at 7:12 PM UTC
Once again this, once again love.
A memoir so sublime, summered and peppered, folded in lustre and sheen of a blue lensed and buffering sky
Once again love
May 25, 2023
May 25, 2023 at 3:02 PM UTC
my crooked wings cannot fly
wrapped in white linen
their ridges rise like mountains
their feathers are beautiful and soft like harp strings
i will write letters inked with your name
but these letters are for me
and the birds that watch me in pity from the sky
do you love me?
will you hurt me?
i have not been scared for a long time
do you need fear to feel love?
leave me lonely i cannot fly
but you must
please
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 8:28 AM UTC
well it must be love when
our bodies crash together
caramel pleasure rushing and swilling
hot and sweet bourbon
heavy breaths hold still
my snakecharming lover
when gravity bends
well it must be love when
in dark times we rage and seethe
dragon tongues with words like blades
phantom fists for pounding hearts
we crumble together
my siamese lover
when the world ends
Nov 29, 2021
Nov 29, 2021 at 4:37 PM UTC
we drive in your car, me in the passenger seat
talking about your new boyfriend and how kind he is
playing songs that i don't like
i can't drive but i watch the roads with you
your hand on the steering wheel
your hand so close i can feel a current run through us
different from before-not as warm or electric
in my dreams this was different
but it's nice to no longer be enamoured by you
to not think about the stupid things i would do
things that would leave me red faced
things that i would think about before i went to sleep
spinning in my head like an unwound tape
gruesome and divine
i know that i am over you
when i can feel the scabs from where cupid struck
no longer hurting but still there
i am healed but i still like you
you are kind and funny and everything else
but I am no longer drunk on the toxins of your love
we could be friends, i think
as you pull up outside my house
i get out and smile
this was nice
is love dead? will i ever love again?
my thoughts shift like sand
but i am just glad that this tape will never play again
and i will never hear the music
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 5:32 PM UTC
spill, spill me
my intoxicating friend
your dark red lipstick
smooches on my tongue
take me to warm valleys
and flowing rivers
gush and pull me
my cheeks as red as wine
burn my throat and make me sing
acid in my cheeks
together we must dine
as we drink
the last of the january wine
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 7:16 PM UTC
Because I am a man that wants the world
And you think it's simply too much
So hold my hand as we dive into strangers
Because this is the last time we touch
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 6:22 PM UTC