im not outside anymore, and that makes me sad-
the smell of ginger doesn't hurt my nose, it actually reminds me of the bitter herbal store with drawers and drawers full of crickets and fungus and crushed things i can't name.

there's a moment before i fall asleep, the moment i wish for dreams again & the moment i put the glowsticks back underneath my bed. i guess it really works, because last night i talked to m and 77 for the first time since, what was it, ninth grade? or maybe fifth?
theres something really unnerving about the park next to my old school. there's something that's not quite opaque about it, like the dogs and the kids and the trees and the homeless men aren't real.

maybe it's a good thing i don't like hamburgers that much, maybe it's a good thing that most food sticks in my throat. that way i can focus on the important stuff, like drywall and plumbing

i really really miss you so much i think my heart might give up and lie down and sleep for millions of dinosaur years. i think my cells might stop and take deep breaths and i think they might explode simultaneously, it will be so beautiful like a fireworks show, i just know it

it's three pm on a thursday. don't tell me you have anything planned other than to sit on the back porch killing flies and picking the skin off your fingers. i know it's humid and full of lime outside but sometimes it's good to have sour lungs, you know? breathe it in. come outside.

an old old lady sat beside me at the bus stop. she was making a huge black and red and green and yellow blanket & told me it was for dreams. i didn't know what she meant so i nodded and offered to pay her bus fare. she was gone before i could look up and it made me think of cyclopes and orange peels

i'll live in the ocean one day!
for now, we're in glitter and rot, covered in murals and expensive tea none of us could afford. but one day i'll be a seagull too & i won't have to worry about the ground shaking anymore

i wan t to die, it's slippery and hot, it's like... tears on frozen skin, you know, like hair and lime, the confetti kind of ugly
i think i might fall into a truck someday, i think i might be pimpled with fear hours before i die. im scared all the time, it's paralyzing and uncontrollable and i can't remember it now

i already know what i want written on my grave. i already know what im going to eat for dinner tomorrow. i already know how goldfish taste and i know what it's like to thaw a secondhand phone.

how are you going to tell me to die already! i don't know what qatar looks like, i don't know the smell of grapes or the color of grass. i have waterfalls to drown in and i have people to fall in love with, you don't know the half of it, i can't die i can't die yet

alabama sun, it's almost hot here in a sad soggy way
i knew a kid in california who lost all her teeth on a pink plastic skateboard (we were all carrying garbage bags filled with computer cables and ipods and cube-shaped monitors)
there was a girl in england somewhere, too, she was bright bright navy blue and i couldn't stop staring at her glittery skin. my grandma told me it was impolite so i decided to grow antenna eyes like those banana slugs clinging to my neighbor's window.

(i think i'll shave my head and rename myself after the moths that come out once the afterimages of the sun leave the corneas.)

she told me we could live in thailand one day, now look what you've done! i want to live again for the first time since my tiny cells began to divide!

weeping sun
raining hot sweat like little metal tacks

they'll come back for you, wading through faded glittery cornfields and mirage-ridden orchards.
stay with the grasshoppers and eat the ruined, dusty crops. you'll probably grow antennae after a few weeks (just like i did)

there is ice cream in your hair again, it's strawberry like last summer and pink like broken plastic
there was a pretty boy on 38th street, he made me laugh because i used to think i could only love a six-petaled rose or a green garbage truck. but there he was & i think i might grow old
you hate when i complain, don't you, but that's okay because she'll always kind of make me want to die, or move to venice. either way i wouldn't get to see you again & i guess that's supposed to be sad.

hey isaac, it's good to have you back. i think we both changed a lot, you're a little dizzier now and im a lot less purple. i still can't give you my address because they repainted the old house. isaac, it's such an ugly shade of (beige?) now- it makes me want to forget the last four years. they cut down the juniper trees, too, i saw the dead flowers and i didn't cry
i don't think ill ever grow out of the shower or the floorboards. ill sit here forever, waiting for cement blocks & burning hair & suffocation