upon coming to the exit and birth, beginning, origin of the supermarket, I had the vision I was pushing my own body out of the morgue/into the abyss.
sleek, ultra-modern, aseptic carrion floor, processed through checkout, aisles, background fuzz, and the pointless chatter of deciding upon this or that alienated labour product.
the worthless time, the bare destitution, the surging eyes fixed across a nothingness that reduced both you and i to economic ex--
a holy verification of existence together in this ******* astronomically ******* up world.

blood at my index, slit along the serrated edge of a tin, metal scrap, upon a mountain of flesh; empire, bread and sons.
mass, *****, incarceration, brand loyalty, ethical spending, assimilation; all wallets bleed the same.
my race, my class, my gender, my age; DIY elevator pitch.

there.s nothing left.
there.s no.thing lft.
there.s n.thing .ft.
th.re.s g.f.
h.re.
e.

fine thread through the arched belly of a bleached whale, blood mixed with the grease, and salt, and death.

started wearing surgical face masks
in public to hide zits
i dig the tiny apartments and the drift
of tokyo skylines
i dig the anonymity, paper thin walls
you can hear a neighbor
playing his guitar
sometimes i wish i could fly back
and live there forever
quit living with an abusive boyfriend

i love you like the polar bear loves the beach
wistfully, between a sigh
and early morning dreams,
scattered between autumn snowflakes
and flowered halloweens
with all the adoration of
a dying bride-to-be,
sowing kisses into letters,
tucking love into the seams.
darling, i love you
but it's not meant to be.

loving burns,
but we can't get off it
lighting cigarettes and hearts
with the same matches
kissing, gasping
between the flames,
choking on smoke, ash
and asking each other's names
pretending they're not the next
candle, saying they're not the same;
everybody wants to feel loved,
everyone wants to feel sane
so between the kissing, the asking, and
lighting the same dead flames
we paint wildfires and suns
and pretend we're not mortal
we're not insane.

three's up
i'm throwing my life away
throwing my three's up

three **** summers in a row
three nights in the slammer
three days getting drunk

been thinking about all my exes a lot
been thinking about you a lot
and how we'd spend the night doing homework

and then sleeping together
used to get me chicken nuggets afterwards
and now you know what goes on in my brain
***, programming and chicken nuggets
from mcdonalds

angel is at the door. / you don’t know what it means, but /
oh m, please pray for me. please / melt the dust off the doorstep, let angel in.
bring the bread to utah and eugene and atlanta and north dakota / the places he was in / the shows you wanted to see /

dear butterfly, i want to go to rome like they did. i want to be in monterey again, it sits in my stomach. / the ocean cemetery, the seaweed, the rain / i want to reach down into my small intestine and pull out seagulls, potato chips, the mist. monterey, please come back /

i’m inferior to the little girl inside me. / she is blue and unbreathing due to the strangulation, my cramped ribcage. we were hand in hand in eighth grade, i think, when my body didn’t end / when my memory wasn’t sticky from too many rewinds.
angel, come in / i’ll pick the fleas from your wings, i’ll shave your head for you