Actually. Nobody likes it when you start sentences with a word that likes to hang in the air. You’re a bit much. One of those monosyllabic names with too many vowels in the middle, it sometimes becomes two by accident. I want to know what you’re going for because we’re all going for something, even if it’s regular blowjobs or an un-even number that cleanly divides into three. Who knows if it stays this way. Probably not. Spring/summer top soil soft. I’m nervous now in a different way.
1 notes
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We show up late to this poetry reading because it is Swing Dance Monday, so we go straight to the bar instead of sneaking in from the side. Raissa orders a wine, white, and I order a wine, red, and she says, “Whenever I order anything other than wine I always wish it was wine.” We take our drinks to the stairs and watch the poet through the glass door. Some man has his eyes closed, arms crossed, meditating the words; it is kind of creepy. Poets become so unsexy when you can’t hear what they are saying, except I can hear; the words love and shark’s vagina somehow come through the wall, in that order. I kind of like how that happened, the disintegration of love by a shark’s vagina.
2 notesHey. Is it ever about fucking bitches? Or about suicide, or is it not wanting to do something a little bit at a time? There are ways to leave without having to go anywhere. That’s one of the only things I know now that is also one of the things I knew then. You can go away to give us everything, and we will forget that the tallies on your bedroom wall once stood for the number of days I was away, because we will finally have stopped measuring absence, or we will just know better. I’m still only guessing at everything. You’re the only person who can make me feel this secure without actually being with me. I know you. I know you break as pretty as white light, prism-split into rainbows. And a lot of damage can be fixed easily, but sometimes I just don’t want to, right now. Let’s non-lover be together - watch the sky on our backs and all see someone different.
I rub my face in the broken person’s hands like they’re a towel. I’m saying stay with me. I’m saying come back. I can only help if we end up getting lost on the same side of you.
9 notesYou’ve been waiting a long time for someone to come and release you
from that fish hook cast in your mouth.
As I hurt for you
and mourn my way
through non-tragedies for you
and wait with an anticipatory eye
that makes everything premature.
For you
we eat crackers
and I wonder what is it like
to have blood and steel and sea fill your mouth,
and don’t you want to taste something
other than metallic.
We eat crackers and I wonder
what is it like
until I wonder
what is it not like.
All the sameness in saneness in saying this.
