texts

there is no ease, watching the drones, the midnight sky, through the bow window of my mind, a ghost needs to haunt, right? i'm writing poetry aka depth, if i cut into the present maybe future will leak out, you know, flowers will be flowers again, we’ll be flowers again, MAKE FLOWERS GREAT AGAIN. my cunt has a flowery shape, i’ve found out recently it’s a lady's mantle like, majestic you said, and i thought this could excuse your dislike for karaoke and speed and the northern forest light, i am no lady but i thought hoping like birds between our differencetrees would be a brave treasure hunt, scouts licking each others fears, whispering: we magic. but there was only salt. i’m the survival type. give me a story, give me a knife. we sit, on the edge, in that bar, is it queer? is it time? what matters is it's getting hot in there, someone please WATER ME, i screw the punch line, later you screw me. love is the greatest vessel, laugh the greatest container, i try to harness the failure and to navigate the poem, that is LIFE, dangling heavily from the top floor, pins me down to the sidewalk but still i'm breathing. this is self help comedy, self help comedy is supposed to help, i guess, and i’m tongue tied, there's a knot in my chest, i stage my heartbrokenness, wish me luck, it's so bright in here, i’m improvising while i’m black. you have no sense of brown. i couldn’t read your blood. who are you? i am gay, i am sad, i am stuck in Forever City, crying overseas where i can finally learn how to swim. every grief is an island. i remember the sensation of drowning, thunder: i love you —i crawl backwards, in your hands i thought i could be safe, and the fox in me rejoiced, yet i'm drowning again, there's no lake this time, just eyes, yours, a dramatic gesture Sappho i'm sure would have loved. if not, summer. hate this one, i'm sad, i'm gay and just want to be cute, ice scream, walk unquiet instead, take my affective landscape out, need some iterations. FEEL THE FEELING they say, i’m tired of healing, it tastes like dusk, i think of your skirt, fashion sighs, the only prop i got is a saw in my bag swag, if i could cut the memories, that time we were hiking, remember the light?, you bet prehistorical dyke porn would be a hit and i was skeptical. give me hard facts, like: it takes seven years for a cell to integrate an event, fuck. i wander at night, trees, they howl, holding creature me, the beast goes on, i want to dig a hole, holes, they have boundaries, i'm a very easy going shape, that’s part of the problem, i guess, who am i, a book? or a funny? the waitress senses my aesthetics of drama, her face a dripping riddle, watching my scars, i watch my phone, lemonade haze, sit at the bar, it’s called Trauma, not kidding, i took a picture, i have an exquisite sense of wound, i sit here, i fantasize about pregnant paintings, i want unlimited girlfriends, i want you to care, i want you, i don’t, i state here, i am not joyful i am not pastoral, i'm writing. i want to write a novel of thank you: thank you for the hurt, a groundbreaking piece, one that blends terror and satire, about THE LOVE SWAMP. oh you know it. frilled orchids, sphagnum, dung beetles, algae: true lovers. it’s getting dark in there. it hearts. i slide. warning, YOU NEED NOT DRINK THE RIVER TO GET HOME, audre lorde is my aunt, and if maybe i need to? you’re dry, and i need some love to cope, pain changes when it’s wet, in the language of rain, i am a tear drop, i’m thirsty, it’s getting moist in me, the light is fertile, the texture of a dream, i’m wasted and i’m wise, i press my face into the damp earth, wood, follow the trails of many preserved futures, one of them is mine, it’s viscous-scented smoke, i leave temporality in a tiny bag pack on the borders (blurred), i leave it here (here), i get in —GET IN THE CAR BABE, let go heart, i lean against the dark, i wear my most fancy clothes, it is hard to be soft, i cut myself on your shell, i dig a hole in that picture, i get in, we roll, still, the Love Car sinks, into the bog, it’s the slime of my life, i leave the pain the hope the whateverest, i take the daddy jokes with me, i’m diving into peace in a very Hollywoodish way, slay down, sinking, i trust the newt the moss the trouble, swallowed by the ever-shifting soup of my feelings, my heart returns to its precious state, pleasure, a coral, i am a puddle, i contain multitudes, i am a poet, goodbye, from here i can embrace a great sky, spacious, from here, i see three shooting stars, and i make the same single wish, surrender, surrender, surrender, water is a smooth operator, it will record my transition, water, this is learning, something so secret that it was hidden in plain sight: cars are real, my poem s might not change the world, but softness transforms every thing.