how we love is who we are and tonight, who we are is singing.
the city helps you forget most things but when you fly out to the coast, you remember
i do believe a sentence can be kind, no matter how much blood it takes to write it
and i do believe you saw that moth in your kitchen and thought of who would die next
i’m sliding up next to you, barefoot in a cowboy hat, you smell of mescal and uncertainty
i am the softest and most ruthless i have ever been
we’re told things of quality have no fear of time, you tell me i have no fear of anything
but actually, i am like other girls - i dream too much, i don’t write enough and i haven’t seen the sunrise in days
let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love —
let it be me

my flesh is a great poem, my eyes are a letter to the gods.
my fists clenched hold unbearable love.
my feet sore walk every parable ever told.
at night i sleep alone and uncomforted. in the mornings i awaken as new and fresh again.
my heart holds memories of all the people i have loved.
my spleen bleeds nightly from those who have wronged me. and my tongue so sharp it cuts those closest to me. i was born for soul crushing devotion. for an adventure so wild and free it can’t be named.
my dreams vivid and uncontrollable highlight all that lack's in me but what is life if not returning to yourself over and over again?

It is March and I am driving through the desert with you. You let me stop at the colourful rocks, abandon theme parks and fifties café.
You hold my hand the entire drive back to Los Angeles.
Maybe we don’t have to be good, maybe we don’t have to crawl on all fours repenting for our sins. Maybe survival is a form of rebellion.
Sometimes I think this life is purely payment for all the debts I owe. Sometimes I think if I sing the unsayable, I’ll open every window.
I promised I would bleed for better reasons this year. I’m always breaking promises even to myself.
You tell me you hate God, that you could never believe in anything.
But prayer is whatever you say on your knees. You're always on your knees.
One day perhaps years from now, perhaps months or even days you will feel me crawling into your mouth.
Because everything I do, I do to get more beautiful so you will want to love me in the cold and indoor morning.

i remember your aching hand as it ran down my spine
you said you loved me but i think that you lied
the worst fate i was ever dealt was choosing between what i knew and what i felt

Not everything is a poem. Not everything is a sign. Not everything is a metaphor.
Sometimes things just happen and there are no bodies to bury. Sometimes they were never there at all.

i.
I do not hate men. I do not rue the day you were born. I do not sit with my friends and think of ways to hurt you back. I do not egg your car or sign you up for spam mailing lists. I do not fantasize of casting a hex on you. I do not ruminate the many ways in which I want you to fail. I do not stay awake at night wondering how you can be so careless with another person’s beating heart. I especially do not miss you.

ii.
All the Bell Hooks in the world could not save you now. All the palo santo and sage can’t undo what you’ve done. All the quasi therapy speak of intentionality and avoidant attachment won’t turn back the clock. All the protests you attend or statistics you repost cannot scrub away your sins. Who are you without an audience? Who are you in the dark? Oh, how well I know you now.

iii.
I liked all that you said before, but for your information, you lied.
So, save your words or swallow them. I no longer want to be known by you. You’re nothing but a lost thing. Honorless, a mercenary, a slave to those intrusive thoughts. A performer, an actor, a dancing monkey and I am your ***** grinder.

i wish i had never met you
i don’t think there was any good reason behind it
i think it was an accident
like the gods got distracted + when they looked back again we had crashed into each other + it was too late
the damage was done + we had met
i don’t think it was a good lesson or that it made me tougher or a better person
i think it just became part of the reason i’m not the same anymore
the reason i’m so closed off, the reason i don’t trust people the way i used to
i don’t think we were supposed to meet
i think it was a complete misfortune
sometimes i think about the day that it happened + how one minor decision could have stopped the entire thing
because if we had never met i would still be all the good parts of me
and there would be a few less parts that needed fixing
and i would still go for walks by the river but you wouldn’t enter my thoughts
and i would still have these friends but we would not reflect on how broken i was when you were a part of my life
what doesn’t **** you makes you strong sure, but i was strong anyway
and the time i spent with you is dead to me
i wish i had never met you
i wish the gods had been paying attention
it was an accident that wasn’t waiting to happen
a calamity
a catastrophe
a mistake