sincerely, girlhood
my 21st birthday is coming up soon
and i want to go to a bar
with a strangers hands down my pants
ode to the jellyfish 🧶
i met a girl last summer
at shilshole bay
where the puget sound
met lake washington
i almost missed her the first night
wreaths of seaweed framed her face,
stained glass skin
peaked above the salt water,
and all i could make out
were small stars
floating in her stomach
her stringy braids
were caught on the dock
inbetween the planks
old wives tales
and middle school science class
told me to walk away,
but my hands worked faster than my brain
she didn't say anything
or nod or wave or smile
but i knew she was thankful
—i swear i saw her wink
trace elements 🧶
i like to buy things
on ebay;
used things
with stories
claw machine prizes
and christmas gifts
that sat in storage
trapped in boxes,
label over label
until they decide
it'd be better off with me
when i open that package
and reveal my piece
an aroma alien to me
cigarette smoke
and old cologne
traces of someones love
asymmetry 🧶
i fall betw
een the pri the
me meridian sky
my body fol line
ded a milli-------------
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gami'd unti pre
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ee myself a--------------
s me who i on
am is unkno my
wn to those own;
that are th--------------
e closest t sile
o myself in nce
between the is my
closet and--------------
the unemplo new
yment line favo
the old que rite
eer special song
--------------------------
dali 🧶
he hovers over me
hands planted on either side of my body,
carefully balanced above.
we stayed in this position for ages
our joints surely stuck
sweat cascaded from his skin,
dripping like analog
glinted across his warm-toned tan body;
the street lamp outside
made for nice lighting
the air around us warped with heat
he leaned his head down to kiss me,
steadily with shake,
and I melted underneath him
he kissed me
his hands traveled up my shirt
my breath hitched
he kissed me again
the windows fogged
boys will be boys
and all I can think of is Titanic '97
ripped through concentration
the walls came down,
and I laid motionless on my bed—
the blue hue of my phone taunts me
these accounts, on lifted stilts,
finally came crashing down
now existing as pings on a cell tower
i wish it could be more
at least, I think I do
it won't be though,
and there's no one to blame but me
in what could only be called
"the consequences of my actions"
writing class 🧶
"poetry is supposed to suck a little bit"
i told myself
in my high school writing class
hours old drip coffee
no longer cold
sitting to my left
the over-the-top edge
i developed under fluorescent lights
was a bit more than necessary
"poetry is supposed to suck a little bit"
i tell myself
sitting at the dining room table
writing straight into the html tag of my neocities page
three years have passed
and i still write useless diatribes
about how sad i am
—a coffee to my left
some things change
some things stay the same
sa
my best friend unalived herself today
my girlfriend's dealing with SA,
and a piece of me is graped
l3$b1an5 and f@ggots too risque
genocide isn't PG
algo-rhythmically insane
co-dependant 🌷
anxiety tricks my mind
into thinking everyone hates me
and adhd
makes sure i'm not listening anyways
they're more in love
than i will ever be
—which doesn't say much
spiralling 🌷
There
Is
Only
So many
Numericals in
The Fibonacci Sequence for
Me to use in this lazy poem that I've put no
Effort into whatsoever, but I've already committed to the bit... So there.
haunted 🌷
the ghosts of bay view
national guardsmen;
militia or gestapo?
only time tells
"ignore the Poles,
and their families too
tradesmen make good practice,
so just shoot to kill"
the milwaukee special
eclipse 🌷
sheets of dark matter
speckled with stars,
and pillows of cosmic dust
i hide in them, with you
my own James Webb
loom over me,
as the sun to the moon,
and kiss me sweetly—
a total eclipse
abscond 🌷
klepto callings
of the easiest kind
pockets lined
with the crumbs of a candy bar
and several CDs
as i leave the store
a tag where my body once stood
paper rings
i make paper rings
though I know they do not last.
worn around the creases on my finger,
printed onto them with every movement.
sweat sponged in
from every waking night;
color stripped
with every point of light.
i make them,
not to display on a shelf
never to be touched,
but to live with me
as if we were one.
strobe
lights may lie
and love might be a nice cushion,
but angles and eyeliner
don't cover acne
and my other imperfections.
fickle are my choices
they stem from boys attention.
validate,
desecrate,
and build me from scratch.
pick a different face,
and a nicer ass.
dream of me
not as I may be,
but as you'd like me so.
china & meringue
what idiot puts strawberry sauce in a China glass?
a vase on the top shelf,
in the middle of tornado alley.
pureé flows out of the cracks in her skin
that stain her gloss red,
sank into the cream colored carpet,
smear across her,
and splatter onto the rubble.
the turning of a lock was useless.
the walls had already collapsed.
once discovered,
he cradled her pieces.
not because he didn't want to break her anymore,
but because he was afraid of cutting himself.
like she'd already done
many times before.
L1C3NCE PL4TE5
judge by the tabs
judge by the state
judge by the cover
judge by the date
i never judge
by your height or your weight
i only judge
by your license plates
hey, its god!
over the hills past the blood-oath alter
through the field of end
i crossed my heart and,
told a lie
when eve ate that forbidden fruit
the snake turned back again
for god hated their
insufferable need
knowledge sucks when its all
fake and fucked
please bring down your fire and brimstone
crush me with your Hell
salute to me, and drain me dry
maybe I might find my way
flush the world of all its good
chaotic little sins
and hope that you dont miss a
single spot
crush strike maim pray
rinse and repeat
01101110 01100010
would it be easier
to keep my legs inside the ride at all times?
not a boundary overstepped
a woman becoming a man
is a lot more digestible
than a woman becoming an anomaly
emotionally stunted
eyes a sunken sewol
id dress like a punk
tight hugging band tees
and baggy denim jeans;
eyeliner that doesnt misgender me
i want to be a man,
but not in the way that a man is a man
in the way that i am
my finnick is my downfall;
not man enough for the gay men
too gay for the straight men
foolish to think it any other way
day to day,
i am a woman to the checkout lady on a sunday afternoon,
and the customer i ring up monday morning
not man enough to sever my chest,
not woman enough to look at it
i know what i am
an enigma
a pawn
a talking point
what people don't understand,
what they choose to fear instead