Before the Haircut:
nervous & terrified & excited & ready & petrified & shaky & strange & waiting & weird & overwhelmed & oddly calm & calmly exploding everywhere internally combusting

After the Haircut:
happy & cheerful & excited & terrified & satisfied & weird & raw & empty & badass & strong & zen & oddly calm & strange & silly & overwhelmed & solid & awake & aware & no longer about to combust

It waits
for the exact moment
to lunge at its prey
hidden in the ferns and fauna
fangs like butcher knives
lodged deep in its throat
a gurgling sound is heard
through the dark shot of brush
whistling the trembling leaves.
And there’s not one or two,
but three of them, crouched low
so near to me that I can hear
their heavy reptilian nostrils
breathing in and out
they are my nightmares
ready to devour
but I am not scared
because they are only vicious creatures
in a dream
and I am a dinosaur wrangler
and I know what I’m doing.

There is a stirring in my chest,
an elation I will not and cannot resist.
There was once a moment where all of life stood still
and my feet grew heavy
barren heavy.
Completely empty
and ready to fall.
There is a fire down below
where the depths of sight can’t grow.
It still feeds off my worried brain
like a fetus planted hover-vein.
The Venus Fly Trap sets its will
spiked teeth ready, for the ****.
There is a place where spider webs
and crawling things fit for nub ebb.
All my flagrant floppy body
deteriorates, demotivates, deregulates
into a monster of the fiendish kind
one where holographic glass goes blind.
there is a feed that ***** in silt
it still eats grits, their shiny pelt
slimy, sloshes, ready, in
frigid waters’ under-grin.
Come follow me, dear Venus Trap
into a submarine unsnap
there is a blooming in my groin
where dead things lay there
shivering.

I feel like that’s the story of my life

waiting

always waiting

whether it be in lines for merch or in line for love I seem to always be waiting until I get there and the moment of torture has past and even though I’m alone in line right now pretending to text but I’m actually writing stream-of-consciousness because waiting in line alone to get autographs of merch I do not have yet is extremely excruciating but worth it in the end the waiting and hoping and wallowing is always worth it in the end because now I know how the universe works

through saying something will happen

letting that wish or hope go

flying free in the wind of reality and

just when you’ve forgotten that you’ve asked for something

it happens in real-life

it becomes your own reality

but you have to let it go

in order for it to

manifest into something tangible and magical and beautiful and raw

I feel like that’s the story of my life

waiting

always waiting

but I’ve accepted that everything great comes after everything awful and you can’t have one without the other

yin and yang

full circle round

and just when you’ve given up

it happens.

Not sure where the family
behind us is from
but they are reciting scripture
in the mess hall cafeteria.
This lingon berry soda is almost finished and my patience is almost finish and I don’t know if I can handle what lies ahead of me and my satire stature.
It’s like I forgot how to write;
forgot how to type;
forgot how to spell and tell if I was right. It’s like I’m a meatball
floating off the plate
about to plummet
on the cold, hard ground.

On a day like today
Love can really happen
Waiting for the family to get ready
It really worked out nicely today,
didn’t it? So nicely. Full of massages and good cheer. Prana sales and laughter all around. My dear friend, thanks for being in my life and teaching me so many things. My dear parents, thank you for easing me into the person I am today and thank you for being so loving and giving and open. I learn from everyone, and in turn, they learn from me. Life is beautifully grand.
On a day like today, Love can really happen. Love can blossom in ways unexpected unsurprising and flavorful in its reverence.

Light is pouring in like
fireworks or flaming torque
and there’s this question
writhing inside so eager to hide

but the light keeps on seeping in
with a lingering grin such bravado and strength beyond eons
telling the future, as it may,
in all it’s comings and goings through cooking and musings.

Light is enormous and so gradual when emerging. So soothing in true form rising with the sun
and setting with the moon.

Light is the most beautiful
transformation.

Darkness swallows me whole
while dingy little bits of regret
cling to my aerated body like
lint and
it turns to stardust on my lapel
a strange smell of orange mist
singing through my fingers
trying to grasp
the cusp of reality
and how you appear in it.

You really are here,
aren’t you.

And it feels so comfortable
to be near you
touching, like starlight or stardust;
combusting and subtle
warm and real in every way.

I hide my voracity well.

Now I sift through heavy fog
on the cloudiest of days
where car lights can’t beam
trying to find my way home

so sudden, it seems
to last for longer
than it is

hidden

and you’re changing

for the better
becoming more you
than you’ve ever been
in your entire life.

And I’ll be here
right by your side
pushing away the darkness
like a velvet curtain parting
but it’s unclear if the show is just starting and so

should I take a seat?
(and wait)

or get up on stage?
(and perform)

Funny how slow life goes
if you let it play out on pace.

And it feels so wonderful to be near you, to hear you, to see your beautiful face

voice and vocal chords misplaced
we are opposites in every way
and yet

I won’t let the darkness take me
to a place I’ve been before

I’m too grown up for that kind of
devoured piece of sadness anymore so

explain to me why dynamite refuses to go off

even when the wick is lit
even when it’s ready

to be brightness

but do I really need darkness to tell me that I’m lost?

Because, honestly, I know exactly where I am

I’m in love.

Fatso
You are and you aren’t
Whale
You are more than the labels they give you
Cow
It’s over now
Their insults cannot hurt you
Giant
You are not in middle school anymore
Ugly
They cannot hurt you anymore
Lard
You are a grown-*** woman
almost thirty,
unapologetically queer, hairy,
with curves and ******* and wide hips and pretty dips and
They cannot cypher their words,
syphon their insults by
relating you to a beautiful big creature
Cow, Whale, Lard, Fatso

What is a Lard but a singling
A bright beige soft nosed creature
with brownie eyes and long lashes
like a taper with a hooked nose
soft and long like an elephants
Flappy points of ears
that hear well
with tiny sharp teeth
like a land-locked manatee
or a furry caramel Beluga whale

Their insults only refer you to necessary creatures who give their life to feed you and their intellect to empower you

A Fatso is a bright blue animal that has shimmering rainbow wings (like a dragon) and thin curly white horns and milky grey eyes with a fabulous feathers and a fanned tail of royal purple that soars through the skit at light-speed and can bring the rain with its melodious cries

When they or you or they or you or
They are you you know
Insult you they are not insulting you
because a Lard and a Fatso are both such intelligent creatures
mystical and fervent
glorious and gargantuan
Large, yes
But beautiful all the same
They have sharp teeth and move through the earth or skies whenever and wherever they like
These animals have freedom
Just like how you have freedom
in how you think about yourself
which is
to think of yourself as
the sexist, prettiest, cutest
person alive
now isn’t that great?
now isn’t that grand?

You are gold plated and steel incorporated and glass blown and light shadows thrown and haggling heights and shaved delights and a hairy symphony and a harrowing city of sparkles that twinkle in the night.

You are beautiful
and might
just
save the world one day.

You are a mystical creature of the highest creed
and no one
can tell you
otherwise.

Peaceful talks
enlighten like a lukewarm stew
warm and inviting.

Cooking in the kitchen
so smitten with spices.