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okayindigo Jul 16
Withered and acrid
are these stinging-nettle boys.

Their shallow sneers cuff my ankles in red lace
and my mother, pitiless, shrugs the blood away
having clearly given up on my
wearing shoes.

I ran by night,
from what I did not know.

By that first pillowing of dawn I found
my legs etched raw,
as if by dying captive men that count the days
on walls of tide choked caves,
and prison cells
and on the ribs of tombs
when one gets mixed up in that unsavory business
of being buried alive.

They scored my skin to play a round
of tic-tac-toe to pass their time
incarcerate, and still
I sing only
of their thorns.
okayindigo Jul 11
The butterhung wind licks summer skin like sugar dog tongues,
golden as the space your belly laugh once
carved out of this very room.

Now I rent it out at storage rates.

Meanwhile, a man jumps off a bridge.
he is on fire.

These days you look like a grave
that something is trying to crawl out of,
and I am addicted to the darkness
between worlds.

So here I am,
back to pick my teeth with perfect bones
nestled among the corporeal
undercarriages of my mother’s
parrot tulips.

I buried you,
yet here you are.
okayindigo Jul 11
You thunder, silver-tongued
about your alien planet
like a junkyard guard dog,

dislodge thick snarls from your throat,
taste the rusted air for fear.

I do not know the climate here.
I do not care to-

this wasteland is too crowded as it is,
there is no place for me to rest
among all these **** mirrors that reek of
restlessness and
wine.  

If only I could close my eyes
and let the ancient howl of your spirit’s storm
engulf me,

make me have to remember
to breathe.

But I do not know the climate here.
I do not care to.
okayindigo Jul 11
I said the quiet part out loud
out beyond the hell-raisers,
those mosquitoes hunkered in their soggy trenches
where sun shafts held up great curtains of green air
and humanity was but a passing rumor whispered tree to tree
out of reach of any path who might’ve tried to take me somewhere
I have been before.

The quiet part said me out loud, asked
who my father was, if
I was angry,
still.

Before I could answer
my mother stepped out in front of me,
shielding me from view.
I peeked out from behind her legs,
mulberry fingers clutching at her skirt.

I had always loved when he was sorry.
It proved my pain: real.

I cupped the quiet part in my palms
and to it whispered

“Why. Should I be?”
a poem I used as payment for and about the spell prescribed to me by a man named Max that I found in the woods.
okayindigo Jun 25
I move to fill
up space. I am moved
to make full that which
hungers.

By age ten, I loved
to climb down into the caves and press
my body to the cool sandstone that has
forever smelled of fertile silence,
between the breathless black
jaws of some unclaimed tomb
no bigger than my own living
vessel, I would
rest.

The earth himself would hold me
within my body’s borders,
tuck me beneath his tongue to
smother my unyielding urge to gobble
up stagnant spaces like a rabid dog
who can’t bear to waste a drop
of this free life.

When you left
I did not stay
on my side
of the bed. I swelled
out like the tide until I took
up this whole ocean of quilt
I pour

my blind and gaseous longing like wet smoke
into the awkward pits at dinner
parties, disguised in a charade
of mirth, playing the hysteric fool to
unite strangers in their incredulity-
it was meant
to be a gift.

They say life is not perfect
but the craving for life is

Perfect.

It was meant to be
a gift but all too often I swallow
up the many timbred voices that compose
a well-cultivated room,
exhuming and exhausting myself as
a black hole must exhaust herself from kissing

the mirror again and again
until lipstick mars the emptiness
that gazes back at me,
filling me with her
craving.
okayindigo May 9
We are all, all burning
We like pain because it’s ours, no one can take it away
And death becomes us
Till then don’t try to hide it it’s what makes us all the same

What am I besides my time
An animal with a limitless mind
There’s nothing pure I can perceive
It’s all being tainted by me

You’re a mile high star in a yellow storm
In sight out of touch and not the least bit warm
Carried your stones in my pockets since before I was born
Look like a fool in that costume, but you sure as hell can perform

Your eyes beg me to break the chain
You don’t want my concessions, you want my disdain
Well you got it baby, you’re rough and you’re vain
And you don’t know anymore the woman
You left in the rain

I’m a flickerless flame and I burn bright blue
Move those piano hands fast if you try and pass through
Unless you want to get burned
Like so many seem to do

It seems like you just went and died
Death by anger death by pride
You’d say it’s just like me to put it in a song
But baby that’s why I’ve done things all along
okayindigo Apr 2017
I am not a patient woman
Don’t pride myself on self control
You might prefer me lace and linen
But I’ll probably just stay rock and roll

And if I do it for attention
Then I’m not doing a good job
Your disbelief is my suspension
Your hungry ghost my favorite slob

I just want some rest now
He’s taking off my dress now
But only with his eyes

This proximity is teaching me
that I might be a whole new kind of powerful
Cause I’m always strong, But all along
My favorite song is sweeter than allowable

What if I let myself be gentle
And not scared to be called weak
You know the need to prove my strength to you
Is a trap, but I like teeth

Ask me why I’m always fighting
I’ll say you ain’t seen nothing yet
I’m just scared of not being exciting
It’s just not my style to be your pet

But if I do it for attention
Then I’m not doing a good job
Your disbelief is my suspension
Your hungry ghost my favorite slob

I just want some rest now
He’s taking off my dress now
But only with his eyes

I am not a patient woman
Don’t pride myself on self control
If you see more of me
Than spontaneity
I’m being stronger than my own black hole

I just want some rest now
He’s taking off my dress now
But only with his eyes
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