i
dreamt of love
my whole life.

boys, barbies, and all of me :
.
tiny cuts in the system,
tiny wishes
and
perfection

where
i thought love was
creation;

pink cutout cardboard and
subtraction of all
flaws .

but love is just kinetics ,
warmth and
confusion .

love is when it’s
cold
and your cheeks sting and
you look up at the sky
and
you smile ,

knowing
you can dream of love
and still
live.

your car doesn't have
a cd player
which is a little unsettling
but i don't really mind

your hands remind
me of my dad's

i want to wear dresses
play taylor swift
spray myself in
citrusy perfume
and paint my eyelids
a shimmery pink

when i'm with you
i feel safe

i'm not convinced
that soulmates exist
but i am convinced that
we pick up people on
our way through life
and some of them just fit

some people are habit
can't remember a
time without them
and some people are the future
what could be instead of
what's always been

you're art in the foam on a cortado
you're a peach drenched in
heavy cream and limoncello
old overshirts and amaretto

you're champagne
and i'm the idiot
who intentionally
calls it "sham-pag-nee"

you can see through the
espresso stains on my
hands and arms right
down to freckles over scars

even if i slap myself to wipe
the pleasant look off my face
at the end of the day
you'll still think i'm cute

and when you say things
like that i start to feel all
gooey and underbaked
like a fallen cake with
cinnamon buttercream
melting down the sides
perfectly and
unabashedly flawed

i am selfish and afraid
and you don't seem to mind

so here's a toast to
letting someone new
into my life for
the first time
to allowing myself
to be vulnerable
and happy even if it
might be a mistake

because goodness knows
you're sweeter and softer
than i ever dreamed
someone could be

the scissor is on your
nape. think away the thought, please

.

.

.

water. there's a drop stroking over the rim that is your forehead. down, down. a

tear. slips down. a tear of

blood. down more. it edges toward your jaw, neck, throat, into a

vein. crawling, descending. throughout your self and your legs,

crisscrossing. spiderveins. open into

roots, white fading to spruce. your feet are gone and you are a

tree. millions more of you but look up to your leaves, flickering green to the sunlight like

a school of fish. silver in the surrounding black. a cold, encompassing, holding, embracing

ocean. you are the water once more. only this time you meet the sky, through a gate called

horizon. endless. infinite. edging, but it only follows you and you it.


are you one with the world? if not, be the world.

you are a world.

2 AM:

i'm falling in, and out, and in, and out,
of sleep.

my mind reaches:
arching forwards,
slowly uncurls a single finger

pinkish joints blossom
one-by-one

the slightest graze of fingernail
and what i think is real bursts into a million,
iridescent
spinning globules sent
skittering down a marble hall,
who knows how long?

but sometimes there are no marbles--
there are only shooting stars

masses of hazy, gaseous yellow
pixels, flickering and glitchering

in the corners of my eyes, hover
at my brow, drop at my feet ah...

a sadness devoid of
emotion.

like androids,
dreaming.

Inugami
gnash their teeth

at frigid air that leaks
from florid pores.

Bloodletting makes us weary
so we sleep and bleed

and dream
of Fuji's winds.

The dreaming watch
is always set to one o’clock

                                                                                                 she talks to stones
collects animal bones & birds eggs

drinks green tea
counts the rain drops  
                                                                                          
                                                                       her aged husband always knocks
before he enters her

her younger lover
never does

                                                                                               the Samurai sword
hangs on the wall, expectantly

the dreaming watch
is always set to one o’clock