I'm being watched by an alien presence.
I can feel it.
Therefore all my musings
will be short,
snippets written
under duress.
But I confess,
they will get longer.
As soon as big brother
leaves my nest.

I take a walk into the parkour graveyard,
looking for Polish dealers and cellphone halos.
I heard Thoth resides in sobriety,
but words fail me
whenever you are near.

I let my tongue run in endless stutters,
disguising 'I love you' as some off-hand request.
I could take you to dinner,
I could show you a longing
without the need for ***.

This late-night food has lost its flavour.
This ******* never picked up.
All that is left is to dial these numbers,
and wait by the window
for any car but yours.

Let's take a walk to the railway bridge.
We'll smoke a joint by the open forest.
You'll push your breath into mine,
make me high,
and forget why I ever
felt so low.

The air is dry all around me,
I feel you,
the voices of nature
speak to be
above the backdrop
of people listening
to their own voices
& I sit in amazement
missing your deep blues
& braided black
& your voice,
the voice of a fairy spirit.

I just know you are here.

lights precesses against smoothing-out
concrete, dawns like these. red runs
down and out my twitching strings,
puddles on the brickwork gathering
about every footstep. trying to make
myself a little more like you. a little
further away. a little less dizzy.
a small crown of wilted lilies.
woke up feelin' somethin' similar, taking
a collection of successive moments
erasing all wishes my lips could ever
graze pastures you stitch between
snowmelt watercolour blinks and the
sugar in your navel and (well, you
get the idea). glacially, i converge to
some semblance of divergence. stop
wishing a second to next. what good
are wishes? what good am i to you,
at least yet? with heavy linen, i'll
mend. i hope you see me, beautiful
as dawn, wide-eyed, mauled by
no icicle; and increasingly lament what
you could
have had, honey

let out into some miniscule town
by someone else's proportionality,
here is always smaller than somewhere
bigger. there are always more people
somewhere else. there are less people
hiding, like me. and i'm left convinced
still, no matter the permanence of what
i'd say or you'd feel, you'll find someone
new and better, or old and more
familiar (this keeps happening,
the same patterns repeat, the inside
of my head reels). so, don't bother
assuaging my fears. somehow,
by this point, they are mostly what
compose me. i'll fall apart with or
without them. with or without you.
it all hurts.
                   and i can't keep it together.
not today. i burnt my self-esteem, by
my own spark. everything tore me
apart. a jigsaw puzzle, returned to pieces.
but i don't fit: not into anyone's plan.
not into any social hierarchy. not
into my own palm. i'll let you cut off
chunks of me, let you cram me into
where you think i should fit. sure.
but you might not allay my definitions.
i'm sorry.
spelt out s-a-d, i'll collapse into the
same heap. you can make me happy
for a day (or four years). sure.
(but it's no good, if i still hate me.)

a moment refines
least of all i, coarse
subdivision of all
second skies, stars,
or nothing, minute
from fall. or fallen
already. asleep for
hours. hope coiled
helplessness around
her wrist, caught my
head. spent days in
space. at least, most
of them. can't help
subduction any same,
another algebra in
stone. collapse like
month's passage. hope
won't speak, every
theory is glowing. a
year dissolves empty,
replacing every field
with stripmalls to
mountains again. a
century forgets regicide.

an eternity later, we
press against the wall
like dust coalescing.
hope strings us up,
couple more
embers in the sky.

clumsily, I fall -
whether it be in or
out of love with you.
similar to how
I bring accidental pain
upon myself, simply
from knocking
my knee on something
solid. clumsily,
I trip over my own
footsteps. I know not
my destination, or
what I'll do upon arrival.

clumsily, I allow
myself to create pathetic
fancies. stupidly,
I give you the power
to inflict
bitter pain upon me.
me, the clumsiest girl
you'll ever know,
who'd be
glad for whichever marks
etched upon her skin,
by you.

Over hill, over dale,
    Thorough bush, thorough brier,
  Over park, over pale,
    Thorough flood, thorough fire,
    I do wander everywhere,
    Swifter than the moonè’s sphere;
    And I serve the fairy queen,
    To dew her orbs upon the green:
    The cowslips tall her pensioners be;
    In their gold coats spots you see;
    Those be rubies, fairy favours,
    In those freckles live their savours:
  I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.