(Still the same)
No one waits to break their arms or cue their truths to wherefore's or flesh chutes. Fresh shoes click against tiling and tiring headlight spot lights of "fuck night on this spiraling platform of words my mouth funnels outwards. I never meant to speak like this, I wish I never scared her."
But fruitless as always, my condo's two hallways haven't been ballrooms to draw plumes of smoke from Friday's blurs, and what's worse is the white flag my eyebrows raise cautiously. The joke my life wrote when it gave no apology.
Why would you hold the cold bits and dampening mess of this freezer box ribcage with traces of ketamine sleepily treating me viciously, hissing three names that my family made for me. And the exact size and height that your downcast eyes want to see. I'M SORRY THIS BODY IS ALL THAT I'VE GOT, BUT NO ROCK OVERTURNED WITH INSECTS BENEATH IT WILL BE FIT TO ILLUSTRATE THE SICKNESS MY MIRROR PITS AGAINST EVERY PUSHUP AND DEADLIFT.
Like, look. Parts of me are so fucking crooked she shook at the sight of them opening. Hoping things might fit like they do now, but more spread apart. Scars painted white on the canvas of what chances we splattered Pollock-like. Paddled tight currents of worrying thoughts, hot with density. Fences meant less to me than the fields of words did, yeah, I plant them for you. Sow what you will and the wind does the rest, it's true.
This is me under prairie sky, words hot and exorcized. Colder yet warmed, keep my head off your shoulders. This strange weight between wants, needs, and apologies.
Weak kneed and disordered.
released June 29, 2015
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