i meant to tell youplease (tell me another story, tell me every dream you've ever had so that in case you) forget (i could remember it for you. i'm stumbling over my words again, asking, do you love) me, (do you dream of me? i love and dream of you every night, i am a mess of limbs and i remember to lie to you and tell you that i) do not (remember my subconscience's wishes on stars that do not exist, i will not tell you that i dreamt that we could) talk (underwater, and you would never come) to me (again because you would not leave me, n)ever again.i meant to tell you in Scraps More Like This
stvwyoustvw in Scraps More Like This
are a middle-aged woman with skin that has turned more into leather mask than a face as you have been in the sun. you are a vitamin d addict with the burning need to stain white skin, brown. you have spent twenty-five years in and out of dermatologists' offices, asking for opinions and second opinions on the warped moles on your back and the bleeding sores on your chest. you have two children, whom you view as distractions from your mission to capture your forever-young. you are forty-five in december, but halfway through november, those riotous patches of skin will spread like poison ivy. you will die three weeks after your birthday- untanned, unloved, and bald.
are a teenaged boy with freckles and a small nose. you are a sad soul, an epicentre for all things tragic. you are run-down and marked with tire-treads and pale lip imprints, a product of society more than anyone, despite the war you wage against it. you have sharp-angled lips and stand with crooked shoulders. you are
he said, she said .collabyou said hi.he said, she said .collab in Scraps More Like This
the earth shifts, a body moves, lights blow out, a star decays, veins twist,
the last dinosaur's cry finally echoes back, a language without words is born,
the sunrise is blue, sunset is red, a day is wasted, people are feeling feelings,
an insect genocide, writing on skin, why are the other planets empty,
had a life started when a baby died before it could remember,
our bodies are ancient artifacts, i stepped on a crack on purpose,
table is a beautiful word, life is a videotape, we dry like grapes,
wallets are too much weight to fly, heartbeats are not fascinating, clocks are bullshit,
diamonds are rocks, breathing is nasty, walls are immature,
touching should not be uncomfortable,
every thought and emotion to think and feel is already in your head;
everything else is just a trigger,
how are tears ready to be cried, why did God invent pain,
we're smart animals, we're dumb humans,
eyes glow, neurons rattle, blood flutters like a gamma ray burst, love is nonexistent,
worse than it soundsi reign in enthusiasm like a pair of overzealous carthorses so they don't trample the man on the side of the road. he is too lovely and i do not think his beautiful face would look nearly as handsome if it was covered in horseshoe prints and steel wheel tracks.worse than it sounds in Scraps More Like This
he is my age, whatever that is today. i wonder if he decides how old he is each morning when he wakes, the way i do. he is beautiful and i hate him for it, i just cannot leave him alone.
he is so much of everything i could never imagine, too much more than i am used to and i just want to sit on his lap (because today, i am six years old), with my ear on his chest, listen to his heart beat ugly rhythms black and blue, and feel his throat rumble with each word.
he will tell me stories and i'm only half paying attention because his voice is so pulchritudinous, he taught me that word when he told me about how pulchritudinous, how beautiful the riverbanks were when he travelled two miles downstream, just floating on his back; i could
sewer ratson mondays, we wake up on fire at midnight. you grunt, i sigh. i shrug, you smirk. i blush, i hit my head on a rock. i notice that i fell asleep on the grass.sewer rats in Scraps More Like This
tuesdays, our toothbrushes are set with stars. staples linger in my fingers, and your shoes are too large. you talk about the planets too much. sometimes i think you're an alien.
on wednesdays, every deathwish scribbled into our minds or notepads falls from between our teeth, and we stop lying for just long enough to be embarrassed. wednesday is a day we reserve for remembering that skydiving is like suicide, only it is less like death and more like flying.
thursdays, we hold funerals for our old selves, the ones that splat on the ground when our parachutes deployed. you would write the eulogies, and i would lean over your shoulder to read them. you burnt them on the spot.
fridays, we skip class and sleep in until the sun is so insistent, we finally get out of bed. you tell me about your falling dream and i tell you about the sna
hipbone connected to thedear-hipbone connected to the in Scraps More Like This
i'm writing you a letter
on the back of my hand
shake and shiver because sometimes
the winter is colder than i hope
you think about me every now and again
i'm falling through the pages of a book i've never read
between the lines of the shapes the streets make
me believe that you aren't as confused as i am
forgetting about poison in my veins and my heart
beats a broken rhythm
drum into submission and i watch as it dies
the black ink bleeding through my body
of water is never as deep as it seems
you've forgotten me and the way i love you
feel so cheap on my skin
i hope you remember and tell me
humanitysomeday, it's just going to behumanity in Scraps More Like This
too much and i will turn into a kite.
i will be a bear, large-pawed and
ivory-fanged, stamping on the
necks of dandelions and crying when
i lift my foot to see its yellow
blood smearing the dirt.
i will be the lamp on the desktop
with a broken gold-paint chain
that leaves fingers smelling like
cold tomatoes and nausea.
i will be a raindrop who forgot how to
fall, fly, and break, its liquidity
and fragility, and stopped moving.
someday, i will lose my humanity.
easteri'm in the back of the car, sucking my chlorine hair and watching with sleepy eyes out the window. brown dirt is soon ochre and we are nowhere in particular yet. we are going to the atheton tablelands for easter. i fall into a broken sleep on my sister's warm shoulder and when i wake up we are there.easter in Biography & Memoir More Like This
it is nighttime and my cousin is only still a baby and she cries from inside the house (which is really only a very large shed). out of the car the air is like freezer air but fresh and crisp like cold water. my eyes become wide at the rolling of the hills around us, the living green they are, the horse paddocks, the shapely trees. there is a loud, insistent buzzing of myriad thumbnail sized insects slamming themselves against us, and walls, towards the light. they scare me and i go inside, under blankets. i am still tired and softly i ease back into sleep on a mattress on the floor.
when i wake up i am the only one awake, even the sun is still sleeping. when i'm the only one awake i like
lilyat cliff edge my darling dances, tiptoes and windswept honey-gold hair. i say, 'my sweet come to daddy, come here princess, you're scaring me.' but that roar of wind is so loud in her ears she sways and looks upon me a moment like i've been only quiet admiring, never calling. she laps in the taste of salty-wave and sand, and she is magic in all her softness. but she is so close and one toe pushes rock downledge and i'm running, oh dear me, i'm running for my darling on the sea cliff, i'm running and i'm all love for her. for her who is me in those eyes and lips, who is me in those smiles. i'm running and she's stopped, standing with her little lips apart like that, puffy bottom lip dropped and sunshine all sparkly white-blue in her eyes. she's stopped and i cannot, i'm running, i'm running, oh silly me, running downwards towards her on the cliff and i have her in my arms, my fairy princess! my brighter-than-sun darling! we're dancing and then, oh, toes, foot slips, we slip and are falllily in General Fiction More Like This
it's raining in our hearts.four months ago, the weather was warm but the sky was dark except for little glowing drops of light that sliced through the darkness and pounded on your cracked windshield. the wipers were screaming back and forth cutting the comfortable silence we sunk into. your knuckles were white on the steering wheel as if the bones were begging to get out and i swear, i could hear your heart beating from my seat eighteen inches away. your eyes kept straying from the road to my face as i stared decidedly out the window watching the storm build and calm in the reflection of my eyes as the sky poured color infused water droplets on us. i wanted to pretend like this wasnt the most beautiful thing id ever seen since that would never count for anything. i wanted to pretend like this wasnt perfect since that tends to be so short-lived. but it was beautiful and perfect as you parted your lips and let your heart sing. it was raining outside when you said you loved me.it's raining in our hearts. in General Fiction More Like This
a week a
my heart beats in dialtones -chello?my heart beats in dialtones -c in General Fiction More Like This
maybe there are too many things ive been waiting to say.
you don't have to call me back, but i wanted to tell you that i love you. i love you and that messy printing you always use to write the inaccurate equations that lead to my heart. i love you and the beautiful mess you are that smiles when i pick up trash in my pretty pink dress that i say makes me look fat but you tell me that i never could because i am as thin as the ice that covers me when you aren't around. i love you even though you never answer your phone; even though i've been calling you for years and you never left me any messages.
i would say that i'm ugly but we look so alike.
im thinking maybe youre easier to talk to when youre not really you. so lately that means im questioning your answering machine again and addressing you in faceless nouns since i cant begin to say the things ive been meaning to te
our sleeping patterns collide.I wake up tired.our sleeping patterns collide. in General Fiction More Like This
I wake up tired and it's afternoon again.
I wake up tired and I am alone.
It's like every night i fall asleep with you on my mind, and I quickly sort through my thoughts leaving the prettiest ones on top so I can try them on in the morning. So everyday, I wake up and try on being in love with you. Except every morning, it's three inches too big or a centimeter and a half too small or it's brushing my kneecaps like it's too long. But I wear it anyways, since I'm used to being a shade left of ordinary or two steps past crazy. I'm used to wearing love and I'm used to you.
I'm used to falling asleep next to you and waking up alone.
You call me.
You call me adorable and I like it.
You call me your own and it feels like a fairytale.
We spend the weekends curled up on iced lakes like mirrors, scratching our stories into their frozen surfaces, and you write about adventures you'll never have and places you'll never go with a girl I wish I could always be. And I write about
i'm not your wintergirl.you're looking for thei'm not your wintergirl. in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
seasons in this silence since
we've gotten too cold.
the past is just practice.we spent last summer blowing kisses that never made it to their destinations. and now i dont know what to say to you to make all those wasted words seem right. its like we were waiting for our first kiss but neither of us had the guts to make the first move so instead we lay side by side not touching, not moving, breathing on opposite intervals. id say your name but you werent listening. youd whisper i love you but you didnt mean it. it was summer and you should have tried smiling with your eyes.the past is just practice. in General Fiction More Like This
last autumn, we were flying paper airplanes with our wishes into the wind but they kept coming back to us. so you would tell me that we were young and we still had time. that the wind would die. that everything dies eventually and then we could finally breathe wishes that we wouldnt have to swallow again. we could whisper the words weve been needing to hear. but every other day, i was losing track of what to say to you. we were sitting in the
we're better off pretendingthis is me tellingwe're better off pretending in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
you that we'd be great if "we"
didn't include "me"
a chord for every discord.sometimes, i just thinka chord for every discord. in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
in melodies and every
sad song sounds like you.
tell me something that mattersyesterday, you were sorting through your pullover sweaters waiting for the winter to come as you thought about how you never feel warm even with your hands tucked into stretched out sleeves. you were wearing your favorite cardigan, buttoned sloppily down the middle so that the sides hung unevenly as you sorted through your even sloppier feelings.tell me something that matters in General Fiction More Like This
tell me something that matters.
tonight, youre in love with this wool coat that buttons uneasily and has pockets with holes in them so you lose both your rhymes and your reasons. youre finally realizing that your favorite song is the tune hummed by train horns at 2:40 am since you can hear the sound while you're lying awake thirteen blocks and four houses away thinking about how that was the backdrop to your late night romances in his house that lies parallel to the train tracks. youre convincing yourself that your heart isnt broken and you wear that coat even though it makes you sneeze since its dusty with memori
i swear i'm donei am yours out ofi swear i'm done in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
habit but habits can be