no longer will i punish myself
and instead i will forgive

forgive not only the mistakes
-to err is to be human you know-
but the critiques and the shame that i have inflicted on myself

i once believed these negativities would mold me into something better
but there is no better that would absolve me

and so

i give myself permission to be
without constraints, or qualifications
without remorse, or judgment

everything i need i can give to myself
and i should give to myself

unconditional love
for all that is
and was
and will be

i am both my mother and my daughter
and i shall care for myself as such
and i shall love myself as such

and i shall be loved and i shall love

what if i just was?

when you zone out, where do you go?

if you look at anything long enough it turns into exactly what you were looking for.

i am looking for nowhere.

hiding in what was.

i want to be in between the lines of my childhood memories,
in between the folds of time
in the solid swaths of color

huffing on emotional echoes.

i want to be in the stills from a movie, but not the running film.

where do ditzy people go when they ditz?

i want to live in the moment before you wake up, when you nuzzle into the void between consciousness and unconsciousness

the in between inhale and exhale

how do i know what words to let out of my
brain
mouth
?

who is the author of my thoughts?
what is making me write this?

i want to be mad
delirious

just be.

i am.

its okay.

my room is clean,
my plants are dying.

the one peeping out behind the door
cannot get enough light where it is,
but i like the way it looks in the corner of my room.

my banana tree is slowly molding from the inside out,
has been for the past two years.
i tell myself if i keep ignoring it,
just keep watering it,
the tree will rid itself of its disease all on its own.

my room is clean,
i am dying.

i keep my surfaces shiny and dust free
the dirt from underneath my nails remains in the pots
but i haven't left my house in three days

and i feel the mold creeping up around my throat and down into the pit of my stomach.

i am just another plant that needs water and light,
maybe i need to be repotted.

my other plant is plastic, though,
she's doing fine.

******* as escapism
desperately rubbing out the pain
***** hair busting out of my underwear

i dont have anywhere to escape to anymore

a dull ache , i want to strip
strip my clothes , my skin, my subjective experience

curl up next to a warm body
water my poor dying plants
but my tears are too salty

the bodies too cold

too much sleepy snow up snot-filled black holes
now heavy weights behind and below the eyes

invincibility sparked by a drug exposed autonomy
like water
i can take whatever shape i form

i can occupy any space in which i put myself
all space

but i am sober now
i would rather occupy no space

cracks of the couch cushion too small
for me to slide into

tea makes me hot

ill sleep naked

clinging to only that which we can remember
only the imprint of something too bright that has been stared at for too long
we bump fleshes
we meld corpses
the mixing of secretions
until i end up covered in yours

i am not sure you see me anymore
but it pains me little for i am not sure i see you either

like a well worn fidget, a subconscious pull of the lobe or the twirl of a piercing,

or perhaps more like your instinctual grab at the farthest recesses of your fridge upon coming home positively toasted

through liquor soaked lenses i aimlessly ***** at the past while sober me of tomorrow awakes with nothing but the echo of something within

temporally filling the void between lips and ******
the void of my gut
of my heart

but a throbbing shadow remains

convinced she had no beauty,
she stared at her own reflection
into her pupils , down her throat , into her ear canals,
until her own face morphed into something unrecognizable.
she cut herself open , let her veins run like a stream , shed her skin, searching for any beauty that may exist
deep
deep
down.

and in her desperate searching
she found it ,
lines and bumps and curves she once thought were horrid
transformed before her eyes.
in her constant and endless willing ,
wanting ,
wishing for them to be beautiful,
they became.

and the world started to notice ,
eyes widened , heads turned , hearts opened , and groins awoke
and she reveled in her new-found power.
she wrapped men and women alike around her dainty but deft fingers,
shining jewels.
her beauty was a power ignited and fueled by herself alone
and she burned , a beautiful flame , with an intensity that left nothing but ash and scar in her wake.

exhausted after ******* the life out of yet another and already seeing the next one willfully align in her crossfires,
she tried to lessen the flame , to tame what she had now become ,
she wrapped herself in cloaks , shaved her lustrous locks , and swore herself to celibacy.

but her beauty was unleashed and could not be returned to her dark depths.
it shown through every crack and cloth and she ran ,
ran from herself ,
ran from the world.
touch became sinful and painful and unwanted ,
gazes became violating , haunting ,
and she cried out at the world blaming them for being so weak and lustful and victim to the wills of the skin

and she cried out at herself , brushing her finger tips over her own skin ,
for the power she had wished into being had become her greatest curse ,
the world , in which she only wished would see her ,
to love her ,
she consumed violently and she now found herself utterly alone ,
with only herself to love.

out into the white yellow concrete jungle
across heat soaked stone

she wished,
with a childish grin,
for a quest,
the whoosh,
she said
a twinkle in her eyes

and i,
tethered to her by locks of lustrous, thick hair,
followed her into the void
my world reduced to the slightest slits
tingly, weightless, floating, bobing on the heat,
following

and she
dancing just ahead
adorned in pineapples, and melons, and cherries,
and the tiny phone in the tiny pocket
nestled between her shoulder blades,

we looked for
the whoosh