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Akemi Aug 22
feeling of regressing an endless motion
round and round linoleum
carpet
muffled stomach black casing and
stall.

movement is nothing but
the making into absence
of what was.

and three hundred years is
a body without sunlight.
Akemi Aug 22
there's not much point being here
there's an expanse
there're people gathering outside
i can't see them
here there
the empty passages that go on and on and
i haven't moved in years
curled into myself
empty confine
shaking arrowroot
dried to dust.

i thought i was existence
not yet
not yet
never.
Akemi Mar 24
my skin is peeling away
soon there’ll be nothing left of me

long long ago
there was light dancing on the windowsill
in the dim quiet of
eyes closed to the sun

it’s a lot harder to think
now

sometimes i see my hands and i wonder who i am
trick of the sunlight
fizzing apart
at the blue red edge of my shadow

today i saw children playing outside
spinning their umbrellas
casting
light across
the parched earth
and it hurt

it’s the feeling of forgetting the air
beyond your room

i just wish i had the grace
of motion without intention

of sunlight
and absence
every year sort of crumples and folds

and there’s only so much space

and no matter how much support i get

i feel like a disappointment

and i’m sure everyone is as tired of me

as i am
Akemi Dec 2020
growth splits the ground
and blisters
everything it touches

you say on and on and on
the same condescension

hung on the tree
bone white
an empty frame
over your eyes

like you’re some holy martyr

i’d rather choke on my *****
than live your life
i don’t think you’ve ever tried to understand me
with your self-absorbed purity politics
judging everything you’ve never engaged with
i’d rather overdose and die than live your ******* hipster life
Akemi Apr 2020
i wanted you to feel exactly how you already feel under corona to feel exactly how you feel i wanted corona under you miserable exactly to feel to feel outside yourself and you without yourself

you wanted lines of passengers vivisecting boxes and makeshift interiors

i wanted exactitude nectar falling from the split of the earth above and the buzzing of wilderness and the shrill call of warblers beneath the parking lot as attendants squirt hand sanitiser into open palms

the other day night fell and i never made it back the next day everything was as it was again i woke a blinding white expanse ceaseless static clinging to my arms like cobweb falls

i wanted a holy verification in the cantaloupe and the cattail

did you know? it grows on the edges of highways and undisturbed plateaus. it brokers nothing. you find it between being and becoming. the panic of not.
audiovisuals: https://youtu.be/vyMNYAOg01o
Akemi Apr 2020
the beginning and end of every sentence is indefinite
this is the aim of every death

keep the door wide shut
let the groan steep
and exit in the blue of night

its all a blur
mouth decorous bloom
and bile above
in some countries
more people have died from police violence
than corona

and in others
corporations build oil pipelines
in the absence of protesters

this is the inarticulate terror
of the now
a conflux of neoliberal individualism and totalitarian paranoia
that is the beginnings of a new fascism

family and nation
blood and soil
Akemi Feb 2020
the ceaseless being of your mouth grapples awful its gray arrest and morning stupor where no one is awake the faint corners of your room block colour monogram the rain has stopped folded into yesterday like all things coming into light wet figments cling and ghosts drop between particles of dirt the earth in tremors sometimes jets of ink raise limp drowned cloth you'd rather forget the light has shifted garrulous open open i am propped blank and disused in the litter wind fragments of sundry love cast me acid e and bright hell washed like golden rays on a body returned to conception dysphoric machine theatre assemblage all tragedy makes me laugh split the earth *** on the ground do you love yourself so much you wear a mask of your own face drawn thinner and thinner until no distance remains i am saturnine liminal endless for all deaths are a movement
impossible drifts
cavernous lust
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