i like being misunderstood. but i am not that complicated: i think am better than you because i think about grand things in the shower and you only stare and smile, your eyes drained out, your mind running clear and fast and going nowhere. i have various complexes: childhood trauma, childhood poverty, childhood isolation. i… Continue reading poem: confessions of a teenage elitist
Tag: thinking
poem: small chronicle of living in my head
silent, silent girls play at depression, play at deep aching wounds: as we really saw battles, as if our mothers died and our fathers went mad; as if we were raped on cement floors outside cities, men standing at the door and sharing cigarettes. but, really, these girls are too fantastic and too normal:… Continue reading poem: small chronicle of living in my head
poem: i am not like the others who are not like me
girls in long coats came for coffee but dropped dead after remembering that coffee comes in plastic cups and with plastic breasts, plastic mouths, and plastic sex lives; they could not handle the combination. they were, however, very unique people: they breathed air everyday, read books sometimes and read instagram all the time, and wanted… Continue reading poem: i am not like the others who are not like me
poem: you can publish, but you must use a pseudonym
they call me no-name, little ghost and spirited what-if that runs and dances among the has-beens and will-be's. i have deep holes where my eyes should be, i have a pulsing sticky heart where my mouth should be: I cannot talk, but I can bleed. I can not even claim what is mine as… Continue reading poem: you can publish, but you must use a pseudonym
poem: “tout oublier”
imagine us fucking in a skyscraper and you bite into me very carefully, the juice running down your chin; my head tipped back like a madonna from the 1940s: when they only had sex in uniforms, and the sky-lights stayed sacred and dizzy and far away.
poem: but I’m almost twenty
just before the dawn i am always ashamed of the impossible things i dream and i wake up crying for men unsaved and for my ugly impossible ego. Because i, of course, am going to save the world.
poem: college (essay at midnight)
essay at midnight and she is frothing with all the wrong things the economics boy kissing inside her inside his computer script and also him kissing his girlfriend. the cold coffee, just one-fifty more calories with crumbs wet at the bottom. the ripe, nice words falling into her tired hands. english major: that's a nice… Continue reading poem: college (essay at midnight)
poem: portrait of a lady, january 2019
pine tree hands make ginger kisses. they are better than the crowd of girls: nice, but all emotional. the boys carry rocks on their heads and in their eyes; the girl tuck the rocks into athletic bags and into breasts. she is with the boys, competing, the rocks split open to Intelligence and Intellect, and… Continue reading poem: portrait of a lady, january 2019
the last pavilion 