Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
been digging for my heart
it always seems out of reach
but i’m reading the chart
i’m talking to trees

not too sure of the politics
can’t keep up with the fuss
got this coat from the lost
& found, i get looks on the bus

we all glide thru the city night
we’re all taking this trip
we’re all using the same hard drugs
but we’re trying to quit

gonna grow my hair long again
find a wavelength i trust
buy a new quilted cardigan
find someone’s mother
to ****
Anything I desire
I swear it to the moon
Desires me back
I craved you
I wanted you
I needed you
I felt you
I touched you
I heard you
I saw you
I loved you
And yet people says that
You only exists inside my head
Sunshine’s If true
You’re the most alluring memory
That I’ve ever created in a lifetime.
 Feb 2023 moscato gato
 Feb 2023 moscato gato
i can feel d i s t a n c e
it's an ache in my bones,
creaking doorways,
noisy joints. stinging knees and ribs every door frame and welcome mat
i don't know what i want except a certain proximity
 Dec 2014 moscato gato
 Dec 2014 moscato gato
I have always
kissed first,
unzipped first
nuzzled into
your hip bone
first, while you
hid your face
beneath my pillow, first.
the nervousness evades
me with it's wispy fingers
too afraid to be afraid I
live by first come first

(c) Brooke Otto 2014

A real problem.
 Dec 2014 moscato gato
telling you I loved you
was with each hair on
my head, one at a time
when your hands picked
them up on edge with all
of your static electricity
and saying it sounded
like a rush of water from
the creeks below Snoqualmie
or the heavy winds through
the pines, so I traced the
sounds out on your
shoulders and ate
each letter so I
could press them
to your ears, spelled
out the shapes and made
a home for you in between
my collar bones, a cabin on
top of my lungs with the
lights always on, from
out on the plains you
could see it, the books
on the shelves read

I love you.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014
 Jul 2014 moscato gato
i sexually identify as the 28 degree january breeze sneaking through your cracked window at 5am

one time a school of fish said to me, "everything will be fine. we promise. just hang around longer."

it was mid-june, i believed them

one time i tweeted, "you have so much undiscovered depth. you are an ocean,"
referring to my gay friend who is known for being sassy and, well, gay
and not for what he really is
or what he's worth

anyway, someone replied to it
"you're a cork in the ocean"
and to this day i still think about what the **** that even means
but its poetic sounding and i like it
i guess

we are all the **** of a great cosmic joke
and i am not me anymore
i'm a hurricane aftermath
it swept away all the worth i had left
and here i am,
incompletely resolute

my favourite shade of orange is the one leaves turn before they commit suicide and if that doesn't say something about my personality then i don't know what does

all i'm trying to say is that
the grass is green for a reason and it turns brown and ugly sometimes but it always goes back to how it was before and i need you to promise me that you'll hold on
Next page