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Claire LeBoeuf May 2018
god money buys big house big love
god money buys me some ******* peace
of mind
but i always spend it all too quickly

and end up all alone
in my big ******* house

sow what i reap in my bathtub
i guess
long sprouts from dry ground

god money cash in
buy my product
god money doesn't get paid back

not until
little big kid leaves to stop playing
in little big boots
i keep on ringing god but he never seems to call me back.
Claire LeBoeuf May 2018
what is an object of devotion? a space in the shape of your empathy.

what is an object of devotion? a sign that says No Vacancies.

what is an object of devotion? i supplement where i cannot fertilize and a shrine in my closet becomes a gravity i orbit within.

what is an object of devotion? little planet, black skies, but i don't look up at all because the ground is so much more comforting.
Claire LeBoeuf May 2018
I am infested
   with bulbs which
sprout from my pores.
   mold and fungus -
living things.

i clean myself with windex
   i clean myself with bleach
but i am still
unable to uproot
   that which sprouts within me.
inspired by emily dickinson, i think.
Claire LeBoeuf May 2018
i. the wind carries within it little knives, little grains, which sting when they strike my face. they strike my face and I am creating that momentum. i don't stop swinging.

ii. the two of us are here again and we aren't talking, but it's a camaraderie that lies among this pause. passing each other always a second too late; it's not grief I feel looking at your back, but it's something.

iii. I am standing far away. the wind blows cigarette smoke back into my face and it stings my eyes. the bit of moisture that leaks from within me is cloudy instead of clear.

iv. there's a padlock on the gate today and we stare at each other, dumb. the world may continue to move on around us but that second wherein the path we were taking suddenly became too over run with **** and branches to walk upon, to even crawl through, sticks us to the ground like a flytrap.

v. the lump in my throat keeps getting bigger. I ask you to feel it; swallowing with your fingers against my throat. it's probably nothing. but I'll be sorry regardless.  

vi. the two of us - back to back. when the wind backhands one, the other flinches in time.
this is about my childhood best friend.

— The End —