a burst of green, i don’t know what it is but i know it will survive unscathed. i hope anyway, this bright expanse of nothing, this vast land of whistling grass. while the rest of us are squandered by the burning sun, the serenity of this plain preserved forever.
The heavy hands pounded relentlessly upon the taut flesh of the rune-worked skin. THRUM. THRUM. THRUM. THRUM. The monotonous tone banged into her ears like the ringing song of her own blood, her own body the dance that moved in sync to the drummers’ powerful sound.
You know, like that one time when you ran off to Columbia and took every reminder of who you were, with you? You know, like that time when you drove away into the ether, and the only thing remaining behind was a pair of hula hoops, duct taped together with pretty little patterns. You know, like that time when we were together at five-thirty in the…[Read more]
I can’t remember the last time I looked out from between the walls. An asylum – this mental institution, this place where white is a reminder that we’re bruised up inside. You know, you think the walls have eyes? It’s just the way the light reflects, really.
You’re seeing things again, just like me, darling.
This is my love poem to no one,
piece of fantasy
wherein I claim that you’re not actually real
you pretend to be
is just compromised immunity
place to be
where I can exist free from expectations
when I can just be me –
but you keep on intruding
I’m afraid for you, sometimes. I think a little longer than I should, and I remember the way you looked the first time you told me about having been to jail.
The fact that you were scared to death of going back.
That you didn’t think orange was your color, and how even having been there, just briefly, it changed you. A black spot on an…[Read more]
Little bits and pieces of your face flow by in my mental slideshow. I’m caught up in the way you look, the way I remember you looking and the way you might look in the future.
I’m spending time with your past-present-future selves all at once in this letter I’m writing to you and wondering how your slideshow face will look as you read it.…[Read more]
Baby, I’m worth it –
But the real question is if you are.
Because I remember this time – not so long ago – when maybe you weren’t. You weren’t worth the night of revelry, the crazy self-hatred that came along with a moment (or ten) of weakness.
Call me crazy as I sit up at night and wonder.
Were you worth it?
Oh, a class act.
You’re not the kind of person who could walk through the doors and be known all at once, are you?
You’re like me.
You see, we’re the kind of people who walk around in black with dark shadows under our eyes because we know things others don’t get, yet.
They’ll understand in time, but until then, we’ll categorize our angsty…[Read more]
you pine for the seasons just like
you pine for the wind, the way it sinks
into your skin heavy like musk. pine is like elm
soft and quiet, hazy. close your eyes and encircle
the trunk of the tree, like a memory, like a daydream
that never ends. a slick november, the fingertip of the rings.
there were words and there were knives
under the silhouette of the sunlight
chiseled into bone. i saw
the man with the chainsaw, cutting through
the edge of the mirror, and when he slipped
the cliff of metal caught on my throat
and cut, jagged.
He was almost here. She was almost about to… (almostalmostalmost) what? Become a mother? Even if she was going to give up this fetus she had been hosting for nine months now? How many months, weeks, hours had passed since she’d known she couldn’t – wouldn’t – keep him?
She may be his mother, but she won’t be his parent, a loving mother…[Read more]
And in this manner we communicate, or we both attempt to. Your indigance flares like a siren, lights flashing red and blue eyes like streetlights blasting, and my own stare is weary and dull, like an old bulb fading.
I try to explain what happened, and in interlocution your hands cut intersections like stale tupperware waving sadly.
I guess we…[Read more]