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camps Mar 28
I.

we regret to inform you that your coat has been stolen and
your scarf is warming up the neck you wish your hands would

we also regret to inform you that your lover is leaving you
and you will never see them again


II.

he said i lied to you she said i like you too and now
like everyone else he sees her face in everyone else
yeah he knows this song but she’ll leave him anyways
since that boy was foolish and the girl couldn’t help
that hers was a face of neon ignorant enough to look at him


III.

there are so many things that i want to do to you but i guess
i’ll just eat your stale cookies and imagine pulling your hair
the glitter in your eyes tells me everything i need to know &
i’m sorry but the lipstick on your face looks better on mine
it tastes like december cold and glühwein in union square
now tell me

why is it so easy to picture you as the mother of my child?


IV.

sick with the fleeting beauty
bless this breeze ephemeral
until it knocks us down weak
so we can learn to say grace

silver sinned bavaria
dream in blonde and leopard print
heavy hearts foam at the mouth
dead until we bleed again


V.

i have chosen the moment i held you in my arms
as the moment i’d like to live in forever
lilian
camps Mar 17
you can't shake the feeling it
quickens marching to the tune of
stop stop beat beat

there's smoke in his eyes and he's
dressed so sharply must be a madman
there's smoke in his eyes

but not enough to call them hazel
  Mar 11 camps
Skylar
I want to write poems
On your skin
With my lips.
camps Feb 17
the flies drowned in the beads of sweat
rising to the occasion on my tired skin
the market felt particularly alive that day and
i tried my best to stand strong knowing
i reeked of foreigner

at the stall i traded two #2 pencils and a
pack of marlboro reds for a basket full of mangos
i asked for any item they were about to discard
and i got a notebook so old its paper
was painted yellow

the villagers told of a man who ruled at
the edge of reality in lands past life where
time was only marked by the lashes of a stinging sun
they said he knew how many grains of sand were
contained in the desert of the great beyond and
that he could throw dunes around like they were pebbles

no one is stupid enough to look for him they said
i'm stupid so i went

i trekked and trekked until trekking was no more
even the snakes and scarabs stopped at some point
the sand in my eyes sang songs to me and
every once in a while it turned my sight
into a searing kaleidoscope

i saw him in the distance he got farther away
with each step i took towards him
the winds spoke of a thousand suns laid to
rest each night of crumbling towers and of a
loneliness that stung sharp

i felt that way my skin now cracked
and my bones returning to the earth
i couldn’t even die knowing my minerals
would one day bloom for this place marked death
a solemn lonely death

a lifetime traversing so desolate a landscape
i could feel the longing in his breath and the
menacing laughter making me twice a fool
you insisted on looking for something he said
as if there was ever anything there
in my domain reflection is survival

i looked around but
there was no water to be found
camps Feb 11
my skin is split apart at the seams at least that is
what it seems like it happened just a couple of days after
i said i had stocked up on bandaids got the plastic kind
the one that falls off easily but what is truly surprising
is that i had unwittingly prepared myself for it

if we could cover up all of our problems as easy as we
do a wound would we get bandages to hide all of the times
we lay in bed sad and in silence would i get some gauze and
fill the hole in my chest left behind by the heart you took to germany sometimes healing looks like bandaids sponsored by past presidents

i wouldn't bet on a dream i'd put money on a sticky prophecy just to hope it doesn't come true
camps Jan 29
you watch movies set in new york in the nineties
and city life seems so different then than it is now they
capture the quintessential city culture he wonders out
loud the people in the café continue with their meals no one
was listening the previous statement is false and not
particularly fair to the man next to him who did indeed
hear him i may be old but i'm still a man the gentleman
says and he heard but the words echoed in his mind as
he now pondered whether stocking up on band-aids
manifests the need to use them

the hairless patch on his face is quite large but he's
perfectly accustomed to it as it is his hairless patch on his
face so much so that every once in a while he looks in the
mirror and is reminded that in theory and in agreement with
the way beards work hair should be growing where there is
none and suddenly he becomes aware that his beard is not as beards go and his self-induced cognitive dissonance only goes away when he remembers that he's spent literally hours of his life brushing
his teeth and quite aggressively at that

i too am a man
man, what?
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