convinced nobody wants either of us to be there. we’ve heard we’re articulate in front of an audience but now we get stage fright just walking up to a circle of people that love us because how could they love both of us? love me and all of my ugly? in a conversation, we’re figuringContinue reading “me and alllllllllll of my sad walk into the poetry event”
Tag Archives: life
chronic fatigue swansong 1/365
Exhaustion is the a) clingiest partner I have ever had. b) coat I am always wearing. c) dance I never stop doing. d) abusive relationship I can’t leave. Fatigue isn’t being tired. Unless, by being tired you mean it is your identity. It is my secret one. Everything you see of my ease is a)Continue reading “chronic fatigue swansong 1/365”
I want to write a poem that makes my other poems shy.
Make them whisper to each other, ‘just who is that new girl?’ Turn their knowing eyes into awescapes like children eating their first bit of ____(your favorite childhood nostalgia treat goes here)____. I want to talk to our inner children the way we should’ve always been spoken to. our feelings given acres to run andContinue reading “I want to write a poem that makes my other poems shy.”
how to survive the unsurvivable or what I do while waiting for the world to regain its color
scrollthrough the photosapp on my phone28,000 pictures and counting-delete duplicatesthe way I want to disappear myself(but I’m not a copy)stareat an image that appears inarguably beautifulor one in which I dorelish in howmy eyes see splendoreven through all the bullshiteven though somedays they can’t on those days death feels like a long awaited pause buttonaContinue reading “how to survive the unsurvivable or what I do while waiting for the world to regain its color”
The future is crowdsourced.
we pick each other ‘s brains like wildflowers. capitalism has never been tender with us so we are relentlessly soft with one another. This system leaves us for dead but we keep bringing each other nourishment gift-wrapped as laughter. we keep bringing each other Alive.
the first person in the bloodline to analyze their trauma does so after causing their weight in it.
for years I became the shape of my anguish. I wasn’t just hurt. I was the hurt. when you are the wound and the salt you would do anything to stop the hellfire you have become but not before you enact the pain, make it reverberate into someone else’s lap say heavy say here sayContinue reading “the first person in the bloodline to analyze their trauma does so after causing their weight in it.”
My least favorite thing about being an artist is continually convincing myself I am not one.
Imposter syndrome taunts in a voice that sounds exactly like mine. Anxiety hands it a microphone. ADHD plays 52 card pick up with my thoughts- hyperfixates on negativity. Invisible illness renders me too damn tired to fight back. Capitalism builds an entire amphitheater for the performance finds a way to fill the seats and profitContinue reading “My least favorite thing about being an artist is continually convincing myself I am not one.”
it’s been a year of years.
time, head down concentrating- lacing their shoes like a fever-dream I trip over sometimes, I look at the people I love and I see cheekbones and eyelashes. smiles brave and worn. In recent weeks I smile at myself in the mirror every single time I step out of the shower. (it’s liberating to unhold aContinue reading “it’s been a year of years.”
When I laugh it is a holy sound
It is the thing I do in rebellion to the many things that try to trim my joy and sometimes gouge and sometimes win so when I smile, It is vast like the solar system stretched like a big top tent, wide as a tug boat pulling everything I’ve ever been right alongside me andContinue reading “When I laugh it is a holy sound”
I am not the handcuffs on my bed post,
nor what you assume they say about me. I am the steady voice that asks them to be used. not just IN control I am control even when I consensually give it away. I am a sovereign entity, allocating all this power exactly as I see fit, boundless even when bound I am safe. IContinue reading “I am not the handcuffs on my bed post,”
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