Find me.
Callouses bubble born of survival
Barefooted, bare-backed branding
It's psycho-tribal.
It's in the bible.
Something on makeshift witchcraft
An (in)impatient scripture draft
Find me.
All of us, answers for anatomy.
Grey slate, tabula. And. scar tissue tough
Illness or just ill-wish is brainstem spinal
Callouses bubble born of survival.
Instinctive. Normal.
What we learned when the books were burned
Cave paintings made in the padded cage
Barefooted bare backed branding.
Now, make it gentle.
Through looking glass, exhausted paragraphs
Be blind to the bodies and dance
It's psycho-tribal.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC
Expectation
Behind your back
Look up at my sculptor hands
These safety blizzards
Concrete vien
The glass train track
Don't look at me, Hunger
You are an empty stomach
Skin contrasts sky
Goodbye contrasts stay
And I think it's easy
When I hurt you
My grin leaves you with nothing
Romantic crucifixion
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 9:07 PM UTC
But I lied. They don't.
Her hands are very small,
So small as to grasp a thousand
TINY WORLDS
While mine are too big,
So big as to grow myself into this singular lonely
DEMANDING one
TOGETHER
Sometimes my fingers slip through and
The too-fast-cars
Chasing the politics
Swaddling the wet rashed babies
Birthed from the awkward ***
The tongue-tied trying
Fall into CONSTRUCTION gaps
We didn't plan our fingerprints.
But what a stupid thing to say.
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 3:57 AM UTC
BLOW
But the second time it comes undone
Redundancy and cardboard boxes under the Christmas tree
******* the professor - "Fun fact: by the time you turn 20, half of your taste buds have
Died"
Holly has tried to die while keeping her memory intact
She won't want to forget this
**** the twine, slip knots slip
-Not in the good way-
Her father said he loved her not in the good way
The bongos are too loud for this place and they aren't instruments
Skin wrapped over emptiness
His Catholic echo
Georgia watches him flap up to the podium,
TAKE A PICTURE OF MY GOSPEL GUT
I HAVE DIGESTED MY DESIRE
Desire: verb, derived from the root word 'virgin'
We have several walls between us, baby
Tell me all your passwords.
Tabs under the tongue, Joey can't taste her iris and how she constricts
Hurting is a good sign, sin, sigh
You will never know how to get inside.
Bird-shit on your shoulder waiting at the alter, Holly is late and the clock is expanding inside of her throat
Deep, suicidal
Clean your clothes, wipe off your cellular corpses flaking like funeral snow
Joey, baby, tell her you cannot taste her entrances
Tell her she does not remind you of ash and acid
Tell her you have not been licking your lips ever since she gave birth to you
The middle child and you have never believed in God.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
I can't wait for you to see me like this.
Me like this.
Wait to see.
I can't wait for you to see like this.
Wait to see me.
Wait for you to see.
- I can't like this.
I can't see.
I can't see like this.
I can't wait for you.
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 5:11 AM UTC
"Want/need/feel/blah"
But our bodies makes noises when we are not around
Are mistranslated
misunderstood
misused
mistreated
Crack of the arctic knuckles crack
-The whip on the horse to make it go faster
-The egg on the bowl to keep your hands clean
-The dawn that splices through skinny windows crack
Blue
I have noticed our Shadows
How they snap on the sidewalk
Like high-heeled claps and click
Went my back when I stretched
And I remember when this first started
And I asked if I could lean on your shoulder sweet spot
And I did for a while
And resting next to your throat was noisy
And we don't do that anymore
And I don't do that anymore
And
There you go, that familiar sound
(that same old sigh, that ticklish taunt, that numb noise - croaky crack)
You would think "Anymore"
Is a blah word
Because that is what my feet said
Blue
You are not around anymore
Our bodies aren't on speaking terms.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 1:45 AM UTC
I want to create
I want to create
But I don't need to
Not right now
I want to create
Blue
Just cause it smells like you
Just because that's what we agreed you were
I want to create
And I've sat in our conversations
Green
Purple
Like I sat in her mouth
I wanna create like that
My fingers (talons) toying with her tongue
I'm telling her to talk
I want the sensation of talking
T T T T Talking, Telling
Mechanics of T T T T Telling
My fingers (roots)
I wanna create like that
And now
Blue
I think of my fat fingers (snakes) inside of you
I want to create
I want to create you
Green
Purple
I'm telling you to talk - right now
I know what to do.
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 1:06 AM UTC
Now, everything seems slow,
Dancing out of time - type slow.
You stopped replying.
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
It hurts
The soft hands
Fingered. Snorted. Kissed.
The mouldy bread on the floor of her car
“Just breathe”
And let me know when you are back.
I’m back!
Oh, hey!
I wanted to go outside but
Frustration,
You should’ve come.
One shoe
One sock
Put it in the other room so I can’t see
“I think it should be there”
I don’t.
I know and I don’t.
Just a dress rehearsal
With his voice - not the body.
Just another rehearsal with him
The Math of Time.
It’s a blue-ish, purple-ish thing.
****
I hate today
I know.
And I don’t.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 5:32 AM UTC
The quiet teeth
Naked breath
Your thigh-high pretend
And make up okay
OK
Rooms and cars
Driveways and homes
Highways and phones
"You've never gone this fast"
You and your undressed sigh
Goodbyes are said while the windows are down
Wind your helmets down
And don't feel bad -
I gave them to you for You
I have
Missed
This
******* 2am
Incorrect again
"I'm not coming to you for brakes"
I forget
Speed is safe -
When it's sharp and wet
Your bare feet trust
We have only ever been going in circles
"Why are you here then?"
I can't sleep.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 2:16 AM UTC