6/17/17

in an incidence of gross misfortune
i have not found someone else.
i have not met another who touches me like you did.
do.
i can’t bear to bear witness to your new life
our love was supposed to be special.
you were my first true love.
of course, i could never say these things to you.
i could never tell you that i would spend every second with you
i would burn down all those who hurt you
or at least, i would
right now.
it’s always easier to be romantic in abstraction.
reality is a smog that blackens our world
an exhalation of all the smoke that’s corroded your lungs
and kills me, too.

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.

 

6/5/17- Cherry Red

as i cross the threshold of adulthood
the pain and dreariness that weighed on every lift and drop of my fragile, young limbs
remains steadfast.
the chest-constricting invisible unknown force that has been
building and building over time is polished and gleaming,
and no matter which what way i fight it, it simply grows stronger.
the ache in my heart has pushed past many layers which will never grow back
and is nearing the surface at record-shattering speed. body-shattering.
don’t breathe, it feels better. but you have to, to live.
is that what you want?
i don’t know.
the reset button was crushed and joined the air a long time ago.
there is no more of that.
it is only forward,
or a cherry red stop.
much brighter, much more vibrant.
incredibly appealing. gorgeous.
enchanting, almost. alluring, certainly.

 

6/3

i believe in the authenticity of emotion.

you feel it

FEEL it

let it burn away your rotted parts
let it flood your cracks
it will harden and fuse your bits and shards together
rebuilding the shattered self of the event.

the honesty of hurt.
the raw raw raw pain
loneliness shoving its long nails through my entrails, jutting and pulling and squeezing and twisting. grasping and strangling my being.

it is real. it is purely what it is. feeling cannot lie. it just is.

5/14

it’s a day to maybe make up for all the shit we put them through when we were younger. for staying out past curfew and not texting back
for meeting a friend two hours away and not letting her know
for making her sit through countless rants and arrogant speeches and hearing the excruciatingly stupid words coming out for your mouth that you can’t stop and smiling
for reckless driving
for reckless driving that resulted in a speeding ticket
for her trusting you not to break her trust and forgiving you for doing so
for telling her you lied
and lied
and lied
and lied to her face and risked your life and someone else’s
for having to tell her about a speeding ticket and getting fucked up on laced shit in the same sitting
for seeing her disappointment being quickly masked by love and care
and for all the shit you did before the past two months, also.

it’s a day to champion the woman who champions everyone else
to know that the love she pours into each and every soul she encounters is
put to good use.
that without that love,
you would not be able to be standing today.

hug your mom.
speak from your soul.
thank her profusely and marvel at her strength.
and do it every single day after today, too.
she has taught you so much more
than you’ll ever know.

if you ever read this mom,
thank you.
when i don’t have the strength of
or the love for myself,
i pull from the deep reservoir you’ve afforded me.
you made me the kind and generous and obstinate
and loud and meek and loving
woman i am today.
you warmed me with your rays.
i love you.