Telling myself I'm talented, pretending to be deep, fooling others into thinking I'm clever- enjoy.
the fact that there are RIGHTS movements we have to fight for in our country because people thought we weren’t worth having them is appalling and why i can’t take memorial day as seriously as it is.
because the enemy isn’t outside the country, it’s inside.
i just smoked outside in the cold again today and wrote outside in the cold post sunrise and sat there still wrote until our new song got retold.
is it weird that i want to be fucked outside, bare with nature in the rain. especially in the country side, there are stars in the petals, making them crystal jars.
you telling me
how i was the romantics of your
parents in person: my travel ambitions
their honeymoon; my favorite song
first danced as one.
i remember you
about your insecurities
and fears. the way you
wrapped in circles
because you believed heartbreak
only came from officiality .
that i’m pretty,
brilliant, and passionate. that i deserve someone
bring the same
traits as me. you didn’t realize
you were writing yourself.
it all seemed
like a magical thing, but
you were hidden in insecurity.
they’re only memories.
i remember you.
mama, did you hear your baby cry? tomorrow morning, you’ll see patches down her neck, bruises between her thighs, but all you’ll do is look on in contempt.
mama, mama, how could you think this was her sin? she was screaming and thrashing; nothing she stated implies desires,. even with this through sex; what part of passion leads to a black eye and indian burns vandalizing her arms?
mama, didn’t you realize this all happened in your basement?
mama, you must have, you switched the narrative of what she did to me.
mama, you were so obsessed with your baby being a dyke, you didn’t seem to care about that night she died.
mama, you din’t ask. now she starves, cuts, and pries herself to oblivion.
mama, what kind of monster just ignores her baby’s cries?
tragic with a cute aesthetic
our hair was somehow entangled during sex, and i’m starting to wonder how my best friends handle it; theirs is so much longer. but the purple and gold somehow made us become the royalty of the byzantine empire. our first kiss should have been that first hit. after all, i’m too stubborn to wear effective hoods and you went ahead and sheltered me- though it may have just been for the weed; i have trouble differentiating motives.
I’m essentially being left behind by each and all edge of whatever familiality I’ve had. I live in a double with my sister, my best friend. But let’s face it. I live alone because I could never reach first prize and should have realized once a boy reached the picture, I was in the sewers. I can’t even begin to ponder on my own situation. After all. Four years ago, I was a lesbian, but now I’m realizing the government finds me unreal and and lately I just have been falling for straight boys but will they know about me or just my body? I’m either made for second place ‘bro’ or a pity fuck once every three weeks.
But god. I might have fallen in love with this one, like I say about each one like they’re the first time for real. But I’m sure I’ve chased him away yet again. I’m not sure if my anxiety’s the perpetuate here, the pattern behind my abuse five years ago, or what but i can’t tell him on account he thinks I can’t trust him.
But I’m frightened of how much I do now and it’s making me bleed more than I have on my bathtub floor. I’m scared the weight just reacted its capacity. So. That’s why I take these steps back. And I want you, want you to see me and give me more than your bimonthly make outs. “You’re not a hallucination” kisses in overbearing places. And et cetera.
I love the idea of being the first to message. And first to call. To ask me over. I remember your particular vulnerability but I want your intimacy and I know you’re the one needing things in fifth gear. So please say the four little letters because I’m sure next time I have too much whiskey, rum, wine, i’ll probably smoke weed more frequently and nicotine will fill my head. And I’ll tell you that I’m unsure, but I might just so uncomfortably do.
since i started the idea
that i would be a koi fish.
i couldn’t kill myself for
basic- i couldn’t reward with
killing myself- so
I became the mindset
I was no longer
I’ve forgotten the purpose
I told you the philosophy,
I wanted you
make a beautiful human too.
of dust after rain
reminds me of the last time
I’d run away.
To this day,
my parents haven’t the
where I’d gone.
My brother would
be next door, you’d see.
and sound with BB guns
shot in the distance.
drunk in the woods,
having sex off wine,
without a care
if we were going to die
from pneumonia or rot.