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.

Smaller Eternities

19 Feb

I found a buried box.

In it, there were candies.


Candies, that tasted like flowers

sweet, like they used to smell.


You were telling me about

the end of of empires, talking


about living underground, unable to wait

for a call, but being able to feel

the Earth, rumble in your bones.


Knowing that there were dragons outside,

knowing, that our miracle was tasting flowers.

Growth Algorithms

17 Feb

They had lost their idea of sunlight

so it came up searching, twisting


Became iron resting on tongues

turning into reaching nerve-shocks

that spidered into limbs


connecting bone and memory to skin.


proving, it too could grow.


12 Feb

I am bruising myself

against the stone your body

has become.


Remembering, stars being

smashed at my feet.


Coating them with poisonous light.

Ice Shards and New Moons

12 Feb

I wonder if they think

when they write

if we have become

so in-bred and self-aware as that.


-is it always this horrid?


I have only ordinary, fragile virtue.

But you yourself should know

that knowledge of ignorance,

of limitation,

is the first step.


we are stains and swells

screaming destruction

crashing against cliff-tops


permanence and enlargement,

scrutiny. Fear us.


You are tired of my sorrows

and I am tired of your indecision.


Is this simply some horrible form

of empathetic link that I am enduring

your sleeplessness in retribution

for my failings?


whose existence I am as unclear of

as the sunbursts behind my eyelids.


because it is dark in here.

not a blindness, or a craze.


but a mere byproduct of this world

that cannot tell me

what is right or wrong


but only what is cold or living.

For the people who live inside robots

7 Feb

the homunculus inside of me has fled.

it is vomiting, sticking its head to the bucket

of its own putrid messes and cycling through

the entirety of its body,


and when I am no longer it,

when I come back to my own skin

I want to pick off each piece of it

fleck by fleck until it is raw

and you have never touched a single inch of it.


and then the barren rawness has me fleeing

urging me to sew myself up inside your skin

until the fey come and take me away.


the escape is a lie, and so is

an answer to whether truth or comfort

is the just and right decision.

For people made of clay and teeth

3 Feb

I was made by gods who were not yours.

We do not share a parentage, a genealogy

a culture.

transparency, a world of air

and lightness can hold corporeality

only in fleeting moments

I can share in your body and lusts.

But I cannot be made of them.

you are blue rolling waves without

the forgiveableness of a dolphin’s form.

I am already claimed.


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