it wasn’t a day that i should have been dwelling on us but i was in between the ugly mess of all things rational floors that needed to be vacuumed and phone calls you know, those unkind obligations i was still stuck somehow on you
in the face of adversity
there is a time to throw the towel in but there is also a time to tie it around your neck as a terry cloth cape, a time to run around the kitchen island singing like a six year old who gets to sleep in on weekends and believes in dreams we had so long ago.
medicine these days
You can cut out a kidney as well as a significant portion of liver and intestine. Remove one, maybe two eyes and ears- they’re not entirely necessary- legs, arms; candidates for amputation. And experts stand up, applauding, calling it miraculous how the human body can so tenaciously subsist with help from our 21st century pills and machines. But they’ve still not yet devised...
swiss legend: legato cirque
happiness doesn’t go on sale. there’s no gift wrap option and it never comes with free shipping. it took a couple hours of forced rationality to figure that out. as a result i saved about $142 plus tax but jesus christ there’s still a hole, there’s still a hole in my chest.
there was a garter snake crossing the road as i was on my way back. i swerved slightly to make sure its small body was in between the wheels, then looked in the side mirror to see if i saved it. a glittering black line on the pavement, it was still slithering across and i watched as the car behind me split it in half.
i had to leave so i drove to our house and it took only an hour to realize that 40 miles wasn’t far enough away to escape anything and also that i’d wasted gas and would waste gas driving back the next day but i just couldn’t bear another second sitting in that small dark space where other people made me wish i was alone
pick another time to write your tragedy the wind has kicked up and april is cartwheeling through my hair now right now is the very best kind of existence the kind of beautifully wholesome struggle that teaches a person what it is to breathe deeply and know their own name
the sunset really has something going for it right now, it’s bringing down the house
8th of April (18.30)
It takes a special kind of person to damage the day you made, a day that was creative with the primary colours, carefully handled so when it set and dried, it could be something you would want to hang above your bed. Yes, it takes a certain type of person to wrench that from your hands.
8th of April (7.00)
The sunrise this morning has charmed me irrefutably, it feels as if a dream has flown to nest within an arm’s length of my capture.
full of books and shoes alone, the room still echoes what creates a home
trying to find sleep on a bed already made soon the sun will rise
training the healers
i killed something today and they watched me, they watched while i fixed him to the table and he squirmed and twisted, all legs and arms but still pinned by his wrists. they ignored it, they ignored his motions. angry and shaking and i cut his chest open, clipped the last bit off his sternum with dull scissors; the best of what they gave me but he wouldn’t stop bleeding. i put a hook...
god, you’re beautiful and by now someone should have ground that knowledge into you with their hipbones; they should have given you a warmth you could carry in your chest
You’re looking for answers In a world where you are probably Going to fall in love with a sack of flesh That is 70% water.
i went swimming in the internet and i drowned
You sat too close to be A dream straddling The bench open legged and With an open heart I could feel my chest collapse As you pressed your mouth Against mine Warm passionate saliva dissolving A year of walls: Building a gate in our picket fence And I watched as You set the sun with your Hands and they burned Straight through me was that what you wanted After all of our unravelings...
we two know the truth
We sleep in different beds and are loved by different people and we gracefully allow them to distract us
never make plans be they dissection or construction employ hesitations and enlist the assistance of devices stronger than yourself resist your caring tendencies you do not need the charities of lace and velvet napkins to wrap your wounds use only your bedsheets, use only your arms. the glamour of tracing a constellation of freckles down arched vertebrae is terrifyingly ...
Insignificant golden Specks visible in The strongest sunrays Bitter chill deceptive Clothed in a fleece of Grandmothers Bodies in communion Soon to find their Caskets
God must be Very Dissapointed But the bar Remains so High
you told me i was funny for still believing in Santa when you really should have told me i was mistaken for having ever believed in you
it’s the end of the year and i’m running out of things like shampoo staples and patience
13.24 & not yet raining
it would be like the world to run out of coffee as you are approaching the counter it would be my luck to meet you standing umbrellaed last in line.
because they sold our cartridge games
you’ve grown up she noticed busy making political decisions doing things like paying bills and flying alone. you’ve never loved her she noticed busy making pressured decisions doing things like road trips and other men.
You’ve said Too much and it doesn’t matter If one hundred people have heard or whether you’re in the bathroom writing on your arms again Because pain isn’t that different only ever changes If you’re bleeding from the Inside out Or the other way around.
The truth is I care where you end up It matters to me Whether thirty years from now you are drunk And stumbling Twisting through foreign streets muttering the names Of women who no Longer love you.
the click beep or soft silence that the phone makes as you end the call is my least favourite sound.
she is waiting for you crosslegged pyjamed and long haired she is sitting for you still and she has placed the world on hold the world is listening to muzak and songs that are fit for upholstered elevators and she has opened up to you as flowers open only to be beaten down by the rain only to be ravaged by the sun and crushed between the palms of young children they bloom in a place ...
every fight we've ever had
your silence is maddening why must i worry so much as you are sleeping can i not simply lie beside you unconscious forgo the earth and all its axes?
i am captive to events i do not have the power to control i am envious of you and your freedom and i cannot contain your passion for life and those that arrived before me
tell no one
hide your dreams of rose petals and candles down comforters and chocolate strawberries bawl them between your fists and tell no one because for the rest of us it is a rushed morning with cracked blinds and obligations. the alarm is too loud. and if we are lucky it is only the blankets that steal our warmth. so if you are courageous enough to believe in someone conceal your ...
i am doing my best to heal you trying to take two pieces of skin and fix them together hoping that the blood clots and the stitches hold i am trying to breathe life back into you as the world claws at your chest and kicks at your teeth and i am finding that it is difficult.
It turns out that having warm knees pocketed against yours does nothing to fill the empty space between your sternum and your spine. that kind of work requires plaster or maybe something else
it was more of two people that found each other with their fingernails hair and tongues it was scraping it was finally there a quiet corner of existence pulsing hot lightning pervaded each movement ripping through membrane like a rusted knife tearing it was raw aggravated and baptizing while the anchor said rain would fall heavy; in sheets
my people spend summers with suitcases we vacation through worn duffel bags and breakfast in the practicality of backpacks we are kind but have a tendency to not stay in one place very long.
It is not about Pablo
It is not about Pablo. But It should be about how he cracked your bones with a silver mallet. It should be about how he cut out your tongue and scarred your soft palate. He dug in your eyes and cut at your wrists and you get to still sit with your hands folded neatly and when friends ask how you are you just smile and say fine
i don’t know how to make pictures with my words anymore they are not even bullets i can’t find the meaning in hairbrushes and fragranced soap the way she cradles her head in her elbow crook the summer light that bleeds through the dying leaves and gravel that scrapes through the holes in grey shoes it’s not as simple to walk up and ask how they are.
all the useless
this is about waking up and knowing you’re going to spend a significant portion of your day surrounded by people that know next to nothing about your life.
do not be mad when you find what you need and it is neither sequined nor electrical when your choice is scarred and decisions are blurred and you hold your hands out in the midst of the fog. store your disappointment in sugar bowls smother your frown beneath sweaty blankets save it preserve it ziplocked pickled and jellied on the shelf for the other early mornings days ...
have some faith in the dark take shots of it and wince as hope warms your body when you can’t find the candles and the kerosene is gone open a bottle and wait out the night
what if i am everything all that has been desired in and out of fall afternoons and friday nights when you kept white walls company who was it that was called to slam doors and pull teeth and lay naked on the bathroom floor who designed eyes that could accept your passings? you place my face within your palms and ask if i was built to break you
physical wet soft and mechanical you speak to me like someone you’ve never known and i smile through my teeth and i push with my tongue and my thoughts turn upon me as if they are ingrown my eyes say the things i cannot with my mouth i am letting you in i am forcing you out
you really think you would remember it more or something but it is fragmented just like any other moment trapped segmented and blurred immune to capture like every other second lost like the words of a story that is over
12 or 30 or 304.8
what is a foot and/or a meter you’ve halved my faith and rendered all immeasurable degrees and decibels sketch out the kilometers and the stones add up saying I must support you the pressure is unending and we cannot be converted lost in the heat of unusable energy
my love is not soft
my love is not soft it is a scream when others are sleeping. it is fanatical a self induced exorcism aborted by an iron mercy: bent coat hangers ripping.. it is the slow asphyxiation of the soul shallow breaths stain the inside black while damaged tracheas collapse in a fit of skin and disaster. it is organic in construction simple and instable it is volatile flammable red sweat...
i feel like seeing blood
i cannot hurt him because he is as you were i am obliged to use the most delicate of napkins and dispose of brass knuckles take my shoes off at the door and shrug my coat onto the iron hanger sit in velvet seats and clap with an institutional courtesy but i’m waiting for the curtain of night to fall i’m waiting for the wolves to circle crackling white snow beneath their...
In the process of leaving You Turn back To watch the demolition you constructed such a lovely excuse But now there is no escape
seven oh three
tired sighing that it was really late that the sun was up when I laid back down and that birds outside were having none of this going back to sleep business so I pulled the blinds and shut them out