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Nov 2020 · 92
crevice
Ari White Nov 2020
I
hardwood floors and earthquakes. share cracks. but hardwood floors can’t destroy cities. and you, my friend, are an earthquake.

II
i planted flowers in the cracks. not for beauty, but for forgetting.

III
all i see is yellow. and i cannot remember.
the sunflower grows from the crevice.
Apr 2020 · 101
clean
Ari White Apr 2020
a splash of bleach in your coffee
clorox for cream
we like substitutes anyways
there’s no difference in extreme

milk the plants
and pretend
it helps

drink the disinfectant  
to see how it felt

that’s what he said
to be a chair, to be a wall
atoms are atoms are nothing at all

so sip the citrus
and hope to survive
patience is a thing
we cannot contrive
Feb 2020 · 113
more
Ari White Feb 2020
to slow down time
we took acid
boiled water
and watched

we wanted more of the enigma
more ticking

but the water boiled too quick
morning was knocking at the door
and our tongues could no longer contain
the words

i love you
Feb 2020 · 113
left
Ari White Feb 2020
the desert rendered down
the fat  
and it left
a liquefied sunrise
and pink eye

do not fall asleep before the camel breaks  
for slipped disks and scoliosis
are a beacon of yellow light

do not milk the camel from your tainted eye
instead eat the suicide
drink it as a milkshake
take it, just take it
as a drug of empathy towards me

but you lack a throat
you cannot swallow
and I cannot breathe
Jun 2019 · 151
seen
Ari White Jun 2019
i cannot wait to die
free myself from skin
sunscreen and subtitles

the conversation is repetitive
and your compliment is neither
kind nor informative

i cannot wait to be
without
Apr 2019 · 152
my worlds not pretty
Ari White Apr 2019
i can taste claustrophobia
and it tastes like vanilla ice cream

white is not a color
but rather the lack there of

that is who i am
i am - everything but

the only temple i pray to
burns every summer

and my father made me into a snowflake
cold and melting

my mouth tastes like mothballs
a few times a day

maybe it means i'm dying
turning into an attic from the inside

i'm reminded
every time i say my name

i'm the illusion of a crayon box
Apr 2019 · 291
unknown
Ari White Apr 2019
face the jaw
the dark black
plaid taped to the wall isn't enough
to hide blue eyes
and trap door wells
insecurities in an international plug isn't enough
i just don't fit

come home
so i don't have to think
love is plaid upgraded to flannel
warmer on an atomic level
something fingertips feel
help me feel it, please

because i'm driving a manual
and i need a softer touch
i don't speak the language
but i was always a foreigner
so there isn't much difference in saying hello
and shifting

stop with the excuses
start to watch
with binoculars see who you come from
maybe the tension will pass
or maybe life is tension
a strong breath and a glass of red wine

home is here
home is near
Oct 2018 · 887
apology
Ari White Oct 2018
let’s paint an intimate word
take our body of work and
slice it to pieces
little cubes of meat
i’ll make you a home cooked meal
if you eat my vibrations
tonight everything feels medium rare
sorry for the blood
it seeps through - sometimes it just wants
to be seen
Oct 2018 · 205
E
Ari White Oct 2018
E
chemical empathy
can be a
clouded consciousness
Oct 2018 · 147
earthquakes
Ari White Oct 2018
I
i'm worried all the time
a constant need to check the earth
and my underbelly
to see if it's separating
but maybe it's just the planet moving
the hum drum continuum
or  maybe it's my body recognizing
how breakable the universe is

II
so sometimes
i don't move
to save the earth from shattering
it's okay
you can depend on me
i know you're dizzy from the circles
infinity is a merry go round
and i am the sun
Jun 2017 · 513
cosmo
Ari White Jun 2017
let's make love like snails
fully give in
to what is underneath
Love
Jun 2017 · 931
ghost
Ari White Jun 2017
i could blame being unseen on my spine
or maybe i'll pretend
everyone just has raspberry jam in their eyes
Jun 2017 · 191
not a lamp
Ari White Jun 2017
i wish i was small enough to crawl into a light socket
so i could be a black sliver
the top right eye on the face of a wall
then i could see the world
and hear the world
and never interact with such a world
Mar 2017 · 3.0k
scheme
Ari White Mar 2017
honey on a lightbulb
in the hopes
for shiny bees

and itsy bitsy blankets
for the bed bugs
just trying to sleep

i feel bad for planets
galaxies and milkshakes
unable to receive

pick up my phone call
sun
pick up the moon
dreams

i am sorry for the things
i don't understand
the soap bubbles and the seams
Jan 2017 · 540
dream IV
Ari White Jan 2017
last night i killed a cat
he attacked me at the home in my head
was reincarnated into a duck
then followed me around
this has to do with you and me
and i think i want you dead
Jun 2016 · 317
listen
Ari White Jun 2016
a late night phone call
from you
leaves voicemails in my head

ringing---------
isn’t the sound
of you calling back

ringing---------
is the sound
of love changing

i can hear you sleeping
and it hurts my ears

do you hear me?
my nauseous heart
is an insomniac

the doctor
prescribes me to the moon
because his ears
unlike yours
have a cochlea made from love
Jan 2016 · 2.6k
happy birthday
Ari White Jan 2016
the world hasn't changed
but blow out the candles anyway

i suggest,
  you leave the wishes
tucked somewhere in your noggin

because expectations
are disappointments
in a short and sweet disguise
Jan 2016 · 597
a reincarnated earth
Ari White Jan 2016
i want to be reincarnated into water
with you
all of you

i want god to pour us in
straight into this ice cube tray
floating in space

i want to wait
until we form one solid ball
to mimic the earth we failed

and then i  want god to smile
as he puts our planet into his cosmic beverage
and gets drunk on our understanding
Ari White Jan 2016
my soul
sliced into diced tomatoes
you can eat it on your sandwich today
dress it in balsamic
digest it in your acid
and flush me into the ocean
Jan 2016 · 272
human sadness
Ari White Jan 2016
i think i'm an alien
because whenever i watch people eat
i want to cry

it's the chewing motion
it makes everyone look simple
i can't look anymore

i'm exhausted
i want to go back to my planet
Jan 2016 · 411
new years resolutions
Ari White Jan 2016
candy in the shower
and envelopes taped to walls
wear a black suit
topped with shampoo
clean what can't be eaten
and forgive your past
with lemon drops and water
Dec 2015 · 619
love
Ari White Dec 2015
my wandering eye is gone
ice to liquid
and liquid to air
the fundamental has changed
making it easy to see
you standing there
the pupil has dilated
and you are the origin
mr three hundred and sixty five degrees
left nothing in the margin

but love

brought my mind to a boil
deep fried my heart like tempura ice cream
with spoons in his pocket
and a smirk on his face
he told me to enjoy myself
cause we are beautiful
don't let it be a waste
Dec 2015 · 356
editing the world
Ari White Dec 2015
i like smattering
as a result
i am part of a global conspiracy
to see craziness
show daunting made necessary
cross the borders of sleepy living

life is beautiful and i'm impatient

but theres a problem
i'm smudging buildings too soon
illuminating interests of white and grey
i'm living in a world without neon signs
a life halfway

i like reminders
and as a result
i am part of a personal vendetta
to take them into a ritual
where the story is spread on the asphalt
and you have to drive the tires through
to make the first sentence

life is muddled and i'm divine

we live in a world with fraying seams
three hundred and sixty degrees makes a circle
add five holy days to make a year
tie the loose ends into a bow
add on a suit
remedy arithmetic to find youth
do everything but forget to remember
one day we will join the ashes
and sleep with the ants

i like knowing
and as a result
i am a part of the human vaccine
to see curiosity go unsolved
Jul 2015 · 738
belly ache
Ari White Jul 2015
the future is a monster
made of taffy in my belly
she laughs at the stretching
muscle memory

her ants crawl out of my tissues
between the muscles
through  the fibers
until i cannot recognize
my bellybutton
my abdomen
my middle of the road

time birthed her mold
from an inverted riptide
without a navel
made of rust like polyps
and chandelier bones
she is growing and unfinished
there is no queen ant to ****
only uncertainty
stuck beneath blood
and over the hill

but if you can put the beast to rest
ease her mind enough to dream
to think of only impossibility
maybe a sugarcoated future
will only be a stomach pain
Nov 2013 · 1.8k
im waiting for. you.
Ari White Nov 2013
hold my mind
it feels like soaked cheetos
puffy and orange
my feet are calloused with thought
and i have been stringing along ties
with too many people

hold my head

as i think about the men i meet in transition
instability in the back of a kit kat bar
and Los Angeles literature
because disappointment bends the broken
the soft cranium crunch
split to be eaten
but built to be shared

hold my thoughts

because im falling asleep in elevators
no longer able to choose the floor
save me from the ponder
from putting bottle caps on shelves
the gravity of my fingertips keeps lighting candles upside down
creating limitless space and
useless entities

hold my belongings so my brain can breathe

because unlike my mouth it cannot reach
you are my deep breath
pudding melted in my lungs
ill have an affair with the Wonka man
just to keep me from loving you
he could store me in one of his rooms
drown me with the a heavy chest
of something dark and semisweet

hold my body and steal my soul

because i group anything you sphere
and my life keeps changing all the love i need

— The End —