I sometimes have a queerfeeling in regardsto you; so said, janeeyre, that precocious bitch. probably drinking spiked water,in a club in california, and not thinkingabout /him/, or so she tellsthe intrusive thoughts. the gleamof the orange purple dancingpeople is twistedinto her throat; watch the sparrowwrap herself into lightening-rodsand snap, sparkledisintegrate.
I told the boy that when I want to write, it is a feeling in my throat. A physical push forward. I am a girl, but I can think of it like a metaphorical erection, the semen coming out of my mouth. It is not something I want to do, sometimes, and sometimes it is.… Continue reading part one
they met on a trainand then did not meetfor manyyears.the girl said, stories must be,by definition, sad and therefore i do notwant a storywith you. the boy said, we have nochoice we are humanand thus doomedto suffer.
while the girls wereinside, performing the small miracle of becomingpretty (in a mauvebathroom, shit-colored faucets); we stood on the porch andsmoked, likemen. the radio songs are obsessedwith the 90s: mixtapes do not reallyexist anymore, unless you are thrashing in certainclub scenes (maybe Londonor the highschool underground);we can pull them outof our heads, what fuckinggrand metaphors,… Continue reading poem: living with other people’s families
he said somedayyou will see yourself on the otherside of the mountains, your facein the trumpets of the yellowsea. mongolian ash-trays cannotsee you; they see shadows, breastsand hands where girls blinkand shit; he wascurled in a chair, his parts decriminalized into yarn, readinga white book. the trumpets go andgo. she said somedayyou will see yourself… Continue reading poem: heavenly bastard in the sky
I pulled an all-nighter, I pulledthe night between my teeth likethe bloody fists ofa man; I stretched the nightbetween my teeth and left school-shooter chalk on the people askinghow, why, andare you. they leftthey all left; and I stayed aloneto watch the sun vomit,greasy violent strands over the lovers especially, their handstheir hair dripping in… Continue reading poem: hemingway
silent ownership in the night, youonly exist like a characterinside my mind-fuckingmental state. i want to make it keep it pretty, i cannot / but whenit happens, it issoft little waves rushingup on me. the daylight is veryawkward, we are realpeople. the refrigerator is silent,mad old greek godor silicone statue, thinkingi took your motherfaster, manage… Continue reading poem: instagram
this morning i woke up, and ignored thattomorrow i will do soagain; we are in the stages we are not thinkingabout that. again. i have a lotof things i only useonce a week/month, i have a lotof pride. this morningi flossed with crystal floss, i foughtwith my mother. i am so fuckingmad at youright now.… Continue reading poem: introduction to portraiture
There is very little I want to do in life anymore; when I think of my shriveled-up ambitions and the sad lack of caring, I am sad too; the sadness is within and without, both the thing consuming me and the cerebral animal response. I want to find that sadness in other people, but mostly… Continue reading writing: a weak explanation for why i skipped two classes today
set the scene: girl, realizingquickly inside the lights that the boywill not tellher everything. how can i say —without mocking — that youthat you exist within smallsnake lines; train stationin august alsoseptember; the lines lookdifferent inside rain lightsstation lights, people with ezra pound faces, petals and bulbouseyes. the girl realizingthe boy is leaving, he is… Continue reading poem: save ur tears