My gut started aching
Again today, a familiar tearing haunting
Mama says to live off soup and crackers
I'm always the blondest and first one chosen to go first
*****, no. Angel, no.
Queen
In the room.

It takes eons to get to and from anywhere
In the snowy windy *** ****** city
I'll never forget when I first got here
It all feels like a dream
As I finally stand behind lenses
Creating something from absolutely nothing
I wish I felt totally well
It's as if my past has coiled itself up
In ropes and twisted snakes in my stomach
As I lay on the bed with my lead actress
Describing beautiful flowered vines
Taking up space in her insides
Whisking and floating around her ribs
As if me and my metaphors were meant to do nothing
But this.

Sometimes I go to speak, to release sound
And I think for a frightful moment
I've forgotten how to intelligently, in a linear sense
Articulate my thoughts.

I could call you
I could text you
I could show up at your door
9 people turning and giving their opinions
But my gut and I proceed in our direction.

You rubbed my back, feeding me tums and Sprite
This must be so very hard for you little Zaky.
I can't wait to not be in love with you.

I release myself into the sky
Flying past all the birds
Forget your duck sweatshirt or that other ex as we whispered "duck" as our ****** secret ****** code
None of it, none of it
For me anymore
The snow sparkling like a thousand diamonds
I lay low on the drinking and competing
And let happiness be my noise.

Round wheels found
patterned, pebble pavement
opened Heaven
and white walls.

Who were washed, dropped
brown mud crowns broken
on soft breathing ground.
It's not loud.

Color from clay,
(my dearest sulfate)
I'll wash away three days
one glass with sparkling diamonds
drops I cannot catch.  Fingernails
orange and chipped, I sip

waste six more days
but saved my veins, still
dream of trains.
I think of engines, coal
and triumphant triangle
iron.  Trains have
become much more
than that.

CTA and there's no Racoon
roadkill.  White walls
around pink stink, black drops
of gum beneath me.

Maybe in daisies, I believe;
mosquitos and flies
I wear pants.  I've got
less eyes and more lies
than that.

Just trust the jeweled beetle bug.