Succulents and decor,
Meticulous cleaning, more friends.
Swiping crazy on tinder,
Online shopping, expensive skincare
Ruminating on what was once there sitting,
In suspended reality.
Where were the parents? That child is
dead now.
Locked in a haze, trying to forget
What a let down we’ve become.
That’s just how it can be.
**** that really blows.
What you thought was flush,
could just be bust.
Watching Disney + shows,
Toes the color of a mood.
Brooding about the future,
And saving the cash.
Cooking up and meal prep,
A meditation streak
you’re scared to break.
Excessive napping and
rubbing ten out on Sunday.
Dealing with small men,
eating like a champion,
taking a bath with an enemy
then do it again.
Avoiding all your frequents,
Picking up your phone calls,
singing Doja lyrics in a commute.
Drinking away the anxiety,
Staring at the tv,
Covered in twenty Sherpa-
You’re gone and I want to stay high
But I’m settled in an empty room
with self care books
I hope this time it’s a womb and
not a coffin.
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
Find a good metaphor to die on,
in a poem at 3:24 am.
Alone in my own bed watching some cheesy
Hulu special with attractive people
who got their start in Disney.
I think about another failed relationship.
My eyes feel dry, so I wet them again.
This is real. This is healthy.
This is hurt.
Why’d he do that?
Self doubt creeps in like the black of night
slipping into my room while I count the hours
like I used to count his freckles,
or was that the one before?
I tried to feel longing.
I don’t want to be in his musk.
I don’t want to wake up the same.
Maybe I’ll wake up and he’d have never
done what he did.
But this was necessary,
at least valid.
The push I needed-
blessing in disguise of sudden
Loneliness during the holidays
while everyone I know
is with someone else
Happy or not.
Happy?
It’s not a constant, right?
I’m okay. I’m cleaning.
I’m painting. I’m flirting.
I’m hurting.
I’m certain this is temporary.
And I’m observing the resistance.
My ******* are hardened.
I’m not aroused- it’s just ******* cold.
And my human space heater
is out of service.
Need a new one.
Or a blanket.
A heated blanket. I’ll just get
A blanket.
They’re less disappointing.
Nov 23, 2019
Nov 23, 2019 at 3:50 AM UTC
Small hands are squeezing organs,
from my stomach to my esophagus.
It all feels horrible,
like a spell was done and worn off again.
Manipulative magic, I’ve been here before.
But never with you.
I never thought I’d find you here.
Choking on the breadcrumbs of your alibi.
You were never good at hiding tracks.
The trails always led to the same place,
And now I’m doubting everything
from the color of your leaves,
to the sound of the wind.
Working off a sweat,
this relationship gave me baby weight.
For you it was whatever, so I roll them, you say “Baby, wait.”
Candy glass houses for your candy ***
Sugarcoat everything you’ve omitted.
I disbelieve everything you’ve admitted.
Fire poker mumbles over the phone.
You’ve been lying with the witch
(‘s)is tongue still off limits?
I won’t step into the fire for you.
I’ll be out of the woods, soon.
Pebbles of wisdom instead of bird food.
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 6:07 PM UTC
So many little ***** hands reaching out
for an empty watering can.
The pipe always seems to be closer
than it looks.
I shut my eyes tight sometimes and
let my fingers find a rhythm
or lose myself to the whirr.
I forget to meditate, or write things down,
I browse IG, fall into pattern of searching
for familiar names.
I find deals online and shop away the panic
Settling in, it’s replaced with commercial
anticipation- instant gratification-
Jesus ******* Christ I can’t even type
with my headphones on,
this car is always the obnoxious one
I never learn.
It’s the closest to the stairwell but I guess
I always hope that people would consider
That roosters haven’t even crowed yet
And maybe whisper?
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 11:59 PM UTC
I’m not sure what brought me to look up
but i saw a lady red tail, perched atop the elm by the bus stop,
With her head tucked under her wing, probably as cold as I was.
I’ve only ever seen them with entrails in their mouth,
at conservations and public gardens, among masses of tourists,
and maybe their shadows in the top floor of the castle
where i attended boring freshman classes.
Once in the car driving up to the capital with my cousin-
they’re said to be common though.
Lady was different- she was small and seemed docile
not unlike the fluffy little birds that made homes
in the bricks at the station,
making themselves bigger for warmth.
I stopped in my tracks and stared, then looked around for someone to share her with-
but everyone looked awfully busy.
Oct 29, 2019
Oct 29, 2019 at 11:57 PM UTC
Just a minute left before I should pinball out of my building doors
and speed over past the new high riser,
gust of wind pushing against my little body,
tiny amongst these buildings going up.
My eyes switch between the time and the streets,
My feet fall soft and I’m safe.
The trains not here yet and then it is,
and then I sit and I rip my book out of
my lunch bag, ticket tucked under my bookmark
In case the conductor don’t see me
I’ve been reading about the golden state killer.
Rye’s a five minute warning and then
I’m speeding out of another door down
the stairs past the elderly,
across one of the many ****** Port Chester
streets difficult to cross but I’m walking
my legs dart fast past the head shop and the bread shop
and my nose is filled with sweet and sour.
I walk faster- avoiding the CEO
he rides the same train and I don’t want to talk.
So I march forward and don’t look back.
I get closer and mentally flip off the line of five short men
catcalling me in Spanish, all the while peeking in to the brisa marina window
to see if there’s anything my herbivorous mouth could swallow,
but i don’t break my stride.
They’re practically a butcher anyway.
I climb the stairs to the entrance, stepping beyond the dead baby bird carcass
I was hoping some other animal would consume yesterday
and the avocado shell that would have been good to bury it with.
I try to shake the thought of impending doom as I swipe myself in
Still going as fast as i can so that I don’t have to hold the door open for the CEO
Call me petty, but I do enough of his bidding on a day to day
And I ascend to age 5 years for 10 hours.
And then I run home just to do it all over again the next morning.
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
Slick with self preservation,
I moisturize away the blemishes.
Night masks alone in the apartment.
Mane too long they dampen
Dark lines on dark skin, strands
stick to me blacker than kajal.
I’ll shower in the morning.
Grabbing at the extra, cupping
Slapping and ******* it in.
I’m so much when i think
I’m not enough.
Wrapping it in lace,
hug where it goes in
Abnormal hourglass,
I turn around to examine
The lightning storm around my
thunder thighs too thick to gap,
Just a small wineglass
Under a coarse tangle.
“Need to workout again.”
Dimples press and flatten,
Tattoos jiggle and beckon.
The hairs on my legs are fine
stand straight in the cold
My feet are sort of dry,
I dip them in cream
And slip on soft socks I could
Never wear in sleep,
I think of a silly dream
where I’m blonde and very thin
Like the best friend
Of every man I’ve ever been with
The one they crush(ed)
on only just a little-
but that was a long time ago.
Such a funny pattern,
Such a common trend.
I wonder if I’m meant to
bring myself to that.
But to change so quickly-
I’d rather be fat,
dark and dead.
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 9:45 PM UTC
My mind won’t shut up.
Count the breaths and listens to sleepcasts
like it should.
Am I bored with being happy?
I clung to creativity as the lifeline in my desperate years
and now it sits in the corner of my room
as one of the many things that spark joy
but isn’t instantly gratifying.
Dissociating is the only push I feel to write,
So I guess I haven’t been quite out of sorts
for a bit.
I have to be up in 5 hours.
I should sleep.
I feel my heart unbonding from the things that keep me.
I don’t see the damage quite yet.
I broke the empty Pyrex bowl that held my lunch earlier.
Right before I got on the train.
Right inside my cloth lunch bag.
I was embarrassed. And i smelt of chilli.
So i tossed the whole thing in the trash-
im heading for the hills.
I’m running.
I can’t be that invested in anything and i know it.
Wide awake and it’s almost midnight.
I don’t want to be the reason I slid right
Back down that shity spiral.
In the shape of sadness.
In the shape of discontentment.
Why is disco in that word?
Go to sleep now.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 11:42 PM UTC
Soft sounds of trucks in the distance, driving over bridges,
Wind hitting windows.
The cold sits with me and rubs my arms,
kisses my fingers
reminds me my ******* are mini heaters.
The glow of my face in the black mirror.
Light shapes dance on my ceiling,
I’m tapping away, numb from feeling.
My hands have long lost sensation,
I just hear the patter of my thumbs.
I don’t know why I don’t want to say anything.
I don’t know why I’m counting my breath.
I’m content with this temperament.
I’ve been way up above lately.
I forgot what it’s like to be present and satiated with nothing.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:52 PM UTC
They’re supposed to keep you warm, while you hold things when it’s brick out.
But mine never fit right.
Sliding about but if they’re tight they’re too thin,
If they’re thick I can’t type with them.
When something fits like one, it’s supposed to be perfect. Sleek- form fitting,
Perfect match.
That hasn’t quite happened yet for me.
I should just hide my hands in my pockets.
I need to feel things, anyway.
I always lose them, anyway.
I sure know how to choose them,
Heat-tech and fingerless, mittens
and insulated.
What’s a middle ground?
Dirt is healthy, anyway.
I rather just see the ghosts, anyway.
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 10:45 PM UTC