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 May 10 avalon
alex
i get myself dizzy
and remember why i fell in love
with your steadiness.
jcl. every time, always.
 Apr 28 avalon
nsp
Fill in the blanks:

1. After months of sleeping next to you, today I woke up, rolled over to see your face, and was (      ).
a) in love
b) complete
c) nervous
d) alone
e) all of the above

2. I (      ) you because I (      ) you.
a) ****, love
b) love, ****

3. I (      ) you because I (      ) you.
a) lost, hurt
b) hurt, lost

4. Towards the end it was clear things weren't working out, but when I  (      ) you I still felt like (      ).
a) kissed, a school boy
b) resented, trying
c) came inside, a god
d) lost, ****
e) all of the above

5. It's devastating because I tried so hard (      ) I knew we were never going to work.
a) even though
b) until
c) after
d) because
e) to pretend

6. We had *** in (      ).
a) our apartments
b) our friends' apartments
c)  the Tonga Room
d) the workplace
e) misery

7. I was (      ), you were (      ), it was (      ).
a) in love, in love, amazing
b) trying, trying, trying
c) yours, yours, yours
d) trying, tired, over
e) real, real, real

8. You never let me (      ), you said it was private.
a) read your recipe book
b) see you ***
c) run with you
d) do yoga with you
e) get to know you

9. I wanted to (      ) you, you wanted to (      ) me.
a) love, love
b) ****, ****
c) possess, escape
d) marry, forget
e) all of the above

10.  When things were at their best we were always (      ).
a) laughing
b) together
c) *******
d) doomed
e) all of the above
 Mar 30 avalon
alex
everything is sticky sweet in the summer
blackberries in the backyard bushes
and honeysuckle lips soft as the breeze
nothing quite as tender as morning molasses
oh, the way it sticks
to me
accent work. read this in a breathy, southern belle mississippi drawl. i don’t usually make the names of my poems too specific to the poem itself, but “morning molasses” just paints a beautiful picture.
 Mar 6 avalon
genavive
i can tell that you wish i was softer,
i want to make myself more docile. i want to
pry my fingernails off for you, offer them to you as a libation,
let the auditory hallucinations do their job.
although small you’re a god nonetheless,
speaking in tongues i will never understand,
drinking flat soda because the smoke has clawed holes in your trachea and the fizz burns just a bit too much for your vessel to handle.
you take care of this body like you take care of mine,
alive;
floating, and
     in all the dimensions,
counting quarters in the back of the car.
     you are my god, and i am your fowl.
i swallow pennies, let the copper taste
     fill me up and choke me and
crawl up my spine.
     mold me like clay.
 Mar 6 avalon
genavive
your intestines are malevolent, plotting. one day they’ll mutiny and **** themselves to get rid of you. this is the most selfless thing you will ever do. the smell clings to everything in the room.

you’ve set everything into motion. it spreads like an outbreak, you can see the romance in the epidemic. the sound fractures like light, a splintering, a prism of ignorance. you press your body up against my lips and i press back harder.

im torn. i feel my body warping in two different directions. it’s kind of sad, isn’t it? the holidays are full of, are you driving yet? are you dating anyone? what school do you go to? i remember when you were THIS tall!

i hate the way my skin ripples, clothed in snot soaked rags and knowing the difference between a variable and a weapon. you kiss my neck and i shiver. i love you. i miss my brother.
 Mar 6 avalon
genavive
how am i supposed to write about being delicate when i am a pressurized ball of rage, coiled tightly like a snake reeling to strike, how am i expected to
write about the soft parts of myself when all i feel is this ugliness within me, swirling like a swarm of flies, dark,
dark like peeling away the layers of my skin,
imagine what i could do to myself uninterrupted.
imagine what i could do to myself uninterrupted.

how am i expected to love you when im overwhelmed with this hatred,
this loathing, ripe and so so so so close to erupting,
like a brain swell, and
how can i
explain this violence inside of me, so gory, so beautiful,
imagine what i could do to myself with this rage.
imagine what i could do to myself with this rage.

i am not beautiful. i am filmy eyes and dirt crusted nails and i want you to know that i am not beautiful. i did not appear here in a swath of light, all oozing with virginity, i appeared here with my mother kicking and screaming. my life has been years of lying in wait like a dog. i cant afford to be patient anymore.
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