we are the children
the underground
we are not your leftovers spat out in a tipsy of dust and bumblebees
i look to you and the birds fly out of our mouth
going ahead of the train and georgia willows to think, “this is the way the world ends.”
and i repeat
and weak
and speak
“this is the way the world ends. this is the way the world ends.”
Nov 29, 2018
Nov 29, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
how do i know?
when i wake up in the morning
and try to spell God first thing
and the only thing to look forward to
is Him giving me something else to dream about
and heading back to bed.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 4:55 PM UTC
when i see it
i think of iris not quite bleached like dali
instead brushed with pink and old jeans
there are more than eighty
that cure your bones and broken skin
in your head, anusara and succulents and a pocketknife
and between your mother and
bedroom conversations about God and shooting up
i've seen two things
i'm not good at math
and
you are good at everything else
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC
my thoughts?
be gentle
you are dealing with parts you've been at war with for so long
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 2:11 AM UTC
even before me
before blood in a heart
or in the bathroom sink
and tracing constillations on Eve’s palm in the cool of the evening
breathing life into dust
He’s crazy about me.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 1:29 AM UTC
i-
forbidden thought, i guess
i mean
everyone wants to die as if they were falling asleep
why do you think i love the blue in the bottle?
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
in the cool of the evening, He tells her about before
before before before
with Them
and the dark
she does not understand completely
(existing in one space is difficult enough)
though she listens and thinks that it must be like dreaming
they need sleep, she and the ribcage man
though-
she bites her lip
and wonders why
He never tells her His dreams
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 2:06 AM UTC
in the cool of the evening, He told her,
"there's an art to being still."
(she and the ribcage man choke on apple seeds and venom)
she guesses she didn't learn it soon enough.
"don't ever leave me."
she is small
and new
and can feel the sun on both sides when He smiles and traces constellations on her palm
and the wish is not selfish
not yet.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 2:00 AM UTC
christopher is candy awful
we live off sunlight and chocolate bars
an evening -no- yes?
an evening of extravagant delight
as plush as his top hat and my velvet ribbon around my throat
maybe
maybe not.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
like emily, i felt a funeral in my brain
cerebellum hinged on blue and tea with too much creamer
it's a prison
and nobody likes to visit
except her and that black chariot
with the man who is so kind to us both
and the band
blurry with my michaelangelo eyes
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 2:38 PM UTC