Nothing pleasant happens here. I'm asking you to stay but telling you to leave. I don't want to be alone, but I want you to be happy. and if you stay, you should know nothing pleasant ever happens here.
poetry. folded into my back pocket dark garnet pages are left frayed and friable like leaves on the bottom of a teacup
poetry. stancion of formed glass emptied of its torch by breakage each shard a grain of obsidian sand
poetry. lamp of a great beast structure struggling to find its way through the labyrinth Minotaur myths blackness camera obscura to a feast of souls who's meat is dusty tomes skeletons in tombs choking on their crusts of parchment owls
poetry. oil of anointing for to wrap the Christian alive as he burns in the garden of Caligula
i am poetry. all of these am i. a paper soul clipped from an origami bird's wing frayed like a homemade leaf but never
*empty
Thanks to Nat Lipstadt and Shaunna Harper for the inspiration
Took me 18 years to realize I didn't want to really live because I wasn't living. You're not living when you feel like you're dying everyday. You're not living when you break down & cut lines across your skin like tally marks. You're not living when you can barely breathe. You're not living. But you're alive & there's nothing you can do about it. Pain & suffer. It's a game. You're facing your own monsters because you learned they weren't hiding in your closet but instead they're hiding inside you. You're fighting against your soul. Your body. You don't know how to defeat them without defeating yourself. So what do you do? You give up. You lost. It's over. Good night.