i have grown more afraid as i have grown older. risk seems more pointless, and while it’s easier to find boredom and the comfort that lies there, my sentimentality keeps me fragile. swept the floor of my green room at dawn, tears dripping into the piled dust. collect the last stray items. natalie’s little brass bells. my spices: cumin and smoked salt, bay leaves and cinnamon. a...
femme and blank. the nights never got warm, this summer. dreams in a series. like the acts of an opera. adjust an animal to motion. to condition an animal to accept motorisation. a sphere, and then a larger sphere, and when something begins to feel like a union, then:
Bite off my cuticles. If I knew what I was feeling. If there was a reason for my bloodied face. The last voice on the line, When are you coming? Soon?
I am not being cute, it really is a question of who. It’s always been a letter, in some way. To a lover, to God, to a passionate friend. But now I don’t have anything to talk about except the weather and the things I don’t want to talk about.
I am trying to write a letter to you but I can’t remember who you are. Or why I am writing. Or what I ought to convey. Today I woke up at 6:30 and did not get out of the bed until 9 because I had promised myself I would go to the gym and I did not want to go. I still didn’t go. The battery for the interior power of the motorhome isn’t holding a charge. I rinse the toilet bowl...
The New Creatives →
Keep track of the progression of the moon, name it off as we go. Full in Aquarius. Now Pisces. Aries. Taurus. I felt the opening before I entered the courtyard but I did not know we had begun to dream in tandem, again. It was the car ride home and there had been crying in public and I said, What would you say to her, I don’t even know what your narrative about us would be. He said, Neither...
I woke it up and it smiled.