little boy fishermen
In the same way we've always been, we are one. I can't explain this to anyone, I don't want to even try. I'm here and I'm alone, and I'm there and I never am. I'm allowed
rep # 9
Grease filled mother, I don't need clothes to say who I am. I take a deep breath and raise my hand. Dream of blood and a stand up scene. Are you sure that you know what you mean?
so long, farewell
The flow of consciousness is on a loop that spills out onto a page. Alive in the new same old way that I've always been. I'm in a cocoon. The self sloughed down into nothing. Same parts take up an unrecognizable form.. Some day this will
rep #8- tea shop too full
drink in this new way to exercise divination I'm over this melancholic dying on the cross take a walk in the rain under polka-dot umbrella stand behind, have a look at something that I'm not
rep # 7
i leave an offering on my bedside table. i think i know this is overdue can't sleep without looking at pictures of you hum in my head when the choice is a little unclear there's something i'm missing that's making it harder
rep #6
bird learns horror story of clipped wings what noise can my throat make if it sings? coming up the back stairs, shaking in the moonlight come on just go to bed now, I can't do this tonight
rep #5
what's for me and what's for you? endless need to cannibalize too soon drink sour sweet water, fill body with frozen stuff I'm not convinced it'll ever be enough
the book of love
Going away to come back different, changed. Isn't that what I've been taught to do? Trees peeking little kinds of green, mind lost on a loop. I'm over being over & over. Say it out loud, giant, big, fat, jinx. Curl my lip at
rep #4
body moves in tandem, I'm aching from a cold place wipe tear stains on the soft curves of your face exiled in gas filled brain I used all my energy to try and contain
rep #3
my mouth wants another to meet it soft, wet warmth familiar motion learned fumbling this is one thing I can't do myself
rep #2
worn out memory, he longs to be my muse shelf full of half pulled clues make a shape, spilled ice cream stain not used to this from you
tiny ode to this & that
Do they know how much I think of them? Write of them? My boys. I hold their long gone image in the palm of my hand. I take them everywhere. Is this love? This thing that will never give up?