Visions

2 May

I want them empty,

but they are full.

I want a lack of lines

.

Space, to roam in curves,

a world that does not

incite these kind of angry tears.

.

A world where we do not

make places for people

.

all mapped out roadways

and jurisdictions and over used tropes

and zoning houses and business

alike.

.

I want a place where my kind

was not cut from a rib

was not laid over the image of earth

.

to likewise be pillaged and raped.

.

A place where I am empty,

and my emptiness is without

further meaning.

Spattered

28 Apr

It feels impossible to explain

the gap.

.

the great void between

the world of feelings

and words.

.

the gap that makes aesthetic lists of grotesque

bloodstains into stomach churning

that feels something like love

.

the endless blackness

of speechless sex

dripping and warm and dangerous

.

that cannot hold the simple form

of two people playing parts,

.

the subtle violences

of ideas, the fleshy

kind.

Fictional Problems

8 Apr

there are endless possibilities

itching at my back of my hipbones,

crawling out between my ribs,

spilling through the gaps in my teeth.

.

it could be vomit, and bile,

or tears mixed with semen,

makeup and sweat,

happiness, sorrow, insanity.

.

slipping between the milliseconds

hearing you call me a goddess

and a whore in the same breath

.

demonic, tied up in the

scratching. sloughing off skin cells

unsure of what will

come up from beneath:

.

mermaids or harpies,

your terror, or my own.

Pressure Fractures

7 Apr

I miss holding them in my hands,

running with the inkblots

smudges, painting shadow-picture

reflections.

.

all leather and ribbon and cracked

spines with wetted corners.

~~~

honesty is the only way out.

I am bleeding fire.

.

I can write about these things

as though they are true for me

when I have never been there

.

never had a house in the trees.

~~~

I am a maker,

I make water

I could make life.
~~~

There is a secret language

I want to share with you

.

all careful brushes and fingertips,

but without the physical.

.

you can speak it in the spaces

between words.

.

know it in the smell before

and after the rain, but never

during.

.

Creation Myths

6 Apr

A plant will always reach

to what you have told it

what you made it believe, is the sun.

.

Heat lamps, vertical irrigation,

it knows nothing else. We cannot

help but desire, and you have

planted each one of us

.

Down the line, in repetition

growing from one another’s ashes,

bones. The gristle of DNA

.

and something else I have forgotten,

reaching to the sun

out an east-facing window.

Weaves

5 Apr

You wear your sadness like a

cloak. careful crafted,

clever pockets

all stitched together, patchwork.

.

your mother would cry

at your handiwork.

Navigation Laws

9 Mar

They feel like laws.

.

Reams, of papers and protocols

lists, expectations

the social sort of punishments.

.

Struggling against the collapse of society,

all of our bodies tumbling together

into indistinguishability

.

A gelatinous membrane against

which I splay my hands and push

but know I cannot go so far as to break.

.

I am negotiated with,

held up by the ultimate law

I crafted to lay over your delegation

.

“I love you, I love you.”

Learning Hope

3 Mar

I want to speckle stars

on your lungs

.

to remind them:

there is no gravity in space.

.

Someday, we will get there.

and eons after, when I am gone

they will remind you what I have said.

.

“You were made for sieges,

my darling,

.

You will outlast this war.”

You will outlast

This war.

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