I hope one day our echos
can become new enterprises
and maybe I can be less self absorbed
Respond casual
Laze a bit, play with symptoms
Crawl around and sift through yr sand.

Instead of watching the ducks mistake my falling tobacco for a bite to eat

9 seats
9 brains
9 kids
All kids
Expected to know
To understand
Expected to focus
On a screen with no meaning
No root in reality
A brain being molded
On another’s dime

// EW

You don’t need to seek validation from
anyone or anything to begin your journey.

Stop looking for what’s around you or
on the outside of you to fill you up.

Own your power, & value yourself
as an individual.

Because love, it’s already within you.

my diet as a young, unsuspecting girl consisted mainly
of the saccharin that crystallized in between
the glowing, smiling teeth of Disney princesses,
and the artificial-like aftertaste that
coated the walls of my mouth,
enchanting me with fantasies of formulaic love –

level-headed, perfunctory love that
feels like knowing the color of
your dress complements some manicured uniform
waiting offscreen until the waltz your costumes are programmed
to perform, indifferent
(as you are)
to the bodies
that fill them.

so I painted myself monochromatic,
spending my days planning, calculating,
and trusting, wondering
why it seemed that other girls never got too hungry,
(living as they did only on sugar highs),
or bored of the one color they had chosen to become, to wait inside,
but starving was easier than searching for
(or, god forbid, finding)
what I knew I was missing ––

"you are a passionate person,"
he says to me,
truth spilling through my rotting teeth into my shriveled belly,
all rich and creamy-like, as if
he doesn't know what the inside of my mouth
should taste like, as if
his mouth doesn't know
how hungry I am ––

I know
that passionate people
spend their days feasting.
they lie underneath black starry skies
and spoon their own moonlight-infused tears into
each other's mouths, and chew crunchy, fizzling morsels of poetry
along with fistfuls of shadow-drenched notebook paper, and
guzzle violet-tinged philosophy and insomnia until sunrise, but

still, unfortunately, love is what sustains us.

passionate people
are no better at surviving than Disney princesses, but
their bellies are too big and their palates too sophisticated
for light, sugary, level-headed love ––

so, in our wild, potent love, we cram ourselves with
these decadent and deliciously painful things,
and when time and distance and gravity make us still
ache with hunger, we swallow fire the colors of our lovers' eyes and
we burn like kaleidoscopic beacons,
smiling.

I read somewhere,
If you can't sleep at night
It's because
You are awake
In someone else's dream...
and Now I Know
Why I am
Still wandering
In the hour
When the night breaks away
from the day
and the orange streaks
Paint the sky with color
My Dear!
Can you stop dreaming of me?