KnowledgeIn a fever dream, black dooms descendingHe lies rapt in stupor.The windows tilt from his halo, the dryheat ticking, each death rattle measures light intoreflections- form a periscope. One eye is allthat is needed to see. Peoplestutter along streets, gloom draped. Voicessoften and stretch, heard through memory and dreaming-one hundred shadowy watchers meld to tarmac. Only one enters.Yard lights convulse, scald twilit moments, birdssettling on flares. He blinks,old as time- skin a coral of waxes, leather from his own glow. Eyes,molten yolks still glimmer beneath lids, fat sunken. She watches,notes of orange blossom forma noose: all her palettes collide. She mothersall earth- cannot . A beginning with no end, future, past.Roots run transatlantic, languages bud- tiredness. Immortal,he doesn't breathe.He wakes to light dappled through glass and birch.-He was the oldest and the first,his house heavy with rotting decades. TVtranslated static into prayers, sun-blea
.my cat has ninelives and i fear he willspend each one doingthe same fuckingthingstaring out of thewindow at the birds onthe fence, when he could beout there, sinking histeeth in
Small TalkIt's dripping with logic and reasonthe question you let gently droponto the table between us,“So, tell me about your life.”And I'm watching it carefullytelling myself it won't biteit's more scared of me than I amand I can capture it with glass.And I can't rest the answer therebecause it's bigger and scarierand this one will bite will sinkwill tear apart the careful stitches.It's too big for this tableand I can't put it onto youso it weighs heavy on my neckand the silence stretches further.
.you break freefrom the grip ofthe oceanjust to die inthe arms of the shorefrom exhaustion
MizpahThe crying windbrings adeluge:lostand blurred atthe edges,youbecomeawhisper.
NaPoWriMo- Day 5She used to try and catch butterfliesuntil she realized their beautyrubbed off on her fingers;but she will always be loving youwith those digits.20 years from nowwhen even the love on her armsis unrecognizable.
SpeechlessWriting is my passion.It's what I do.It's who I am.I can weave words easily, without thinking.But when I think of you,I'mspeechless.
.in the nighttime you arebetter; moonlightembroiders yourskin and stitchesyou up with apurer love, untilthe morning comes,the sun runs histeeth through yourseams again, splitsyou open
letters on leaving.i wrote my first suicide letter in 10th grade.they told me it didn't count if you felt like dyingunless you had it down on paperlike a vetoed birth certificate.i've rewritten it enough times sinceto realize i could never leave with a proper goodbye.goodbye is too heavy a word for paper to holdand i was never brave enough for the kind of courage it takes to tell themwhy.why they weren't enough to keep me here.but i'm finally learning a different kind of bravery-the kind it takes tostay.stay.i learned to wear death like rope burn my junior yearmy senior year we became friends but i finally stopped cutting the insides of wristswhen i finally realized death never arrives on time,i started smoking when i turned 18to speed his arrivalbecause somedays, 15 less earth rotations around the sun sounds like a blessing.2 years later I'm still learning to let the self destructive habits goI stopped smoking againthrew the knife away and closed the toilet lid.learnin
knees and toeshere is a short list of things i know:Cody says he hates David, but he really doesn’t,i will never wear a coat until the first of November,i hate myself in the spring,the sun is 92, 960, 000 miles from earth and i’m pretty surethat number is rounded to look prettyor god must be ocd.it’s a miracle, i’m learning to look you in the eye.make a wish, make a wish, any wishi’m plucking out my eyelashes, i’m learningto give up beauty for a shot at happiness.i say too much too quickly without getting outall of the consonants and my speech is craggyand rocky like an abandoned trail in the Appalachians,overgrown and the road not taken.my fingernails are ragged and bitten to the shorteststub i could stand. i don’t want to hurt you,i don’t want to hurt myself, my fingernails cannothurt you but i can still hurt myself. one day i’llbe brave enough to leave scratch marks on your skinin angry red lines, one day i’ll be some
sometimes i forget how to breatheAn overwhelming need to shut myselfunderwater and drink in my inevitabledeath. Crawl out to shore and gaspout apologies while tending to cut knees,but leave the internal damage. Find somethingto tether me to the ground, clutch itbetween pruned and shaking hands.Water drips off my nose, down my arms,plinks into the puddle in my lungs.I am drowning on dry land, chokingon the irresistible thought of you.
.i've been breaking out ofhell, but the devil don'tstop mehe slips a return ticketinto my pocket and says,you're gonna wannause this, kid