7/6/17

the dusting of cherry red, the burnishing, and the cleansing of love and joy

 

some days the sun is just a dull enough shine that i feel like i have the chance to shine like the sun

some nights the moonlight casts a shadow on my pallid parts and a glow in my deepest cavities

these days, i dig my heels into the earth, stirring and kicking up dust over the cherry red.

these days, its beauty holds a half burned match stick to my raging forest fire.

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woes of a dramatic

i feel
HARD
everything.
it’s not just the lovely ones, you know.
i feel burning BUBBLING rage that blinds me, truly.
i feel unbearable sorrow from a fleeting thought. it can weigh me down for hours. suffocate me to silence.
i feel despair and despondence together in a melody of vast nothingness
that sucks the life and energy and worthiness out of everything i believe i can do. and i cannot.
jealousy at every interaction, joy that flitters and flutters sickly in conversation, laughter so pure and lithely that the world seems so beautiful i am invincible. and i am not.
i cannot listen to songs or rewatch old movies or revel in nostalgia. i cannot think of passed loved ones or broken friendships. it breaks me.
talking is like a bucket brigade for a star.
(don’t worry.
i’m not yet lost enough to think i am a star.)

6/16/17

sometimes the deja vu is too much.

it’s intensity is terrifying
i have lived this life a thousand times over.
would cherry red make any difference?

it’s freezing and it stuns me but it’s not too much to bear.
all it takes is one moment of action.

i always dreamed and hoped for reincarnation.

maybe we are fixed. this is all we get.
the universe is on a loop.
right before it all got destroyed,
someone far larger fixed us.
and we are stuck. but we are safe.

those go hand in hand,
stuck, safe.
fear debilitates us as we lean into it.

6/9/17- coyotes

at my saddest they flanked me
protected me
safe.

at my most vulnerable they screamed
and warned me.
saviors.

skittish.

scrappy.

coyotes are not what they’re made out to be.

myths by us.

we are despicable and break what we touch.
coyotes are not what we say they are.

they will live and god i hope, we will die.