poem: I have lost reality many times

and yet she always come back, that unreliable bitch. you'd think I could let my organs run off in snot safetyfor several hours and not return to disgusting wherewithal when I shower or finally sleep, as if everything wrong with me was merely situational. I can write claimsin mad tongues that I am also doomed… Continue reading poem: I have lost reality many times

poem: disorder

in another context, the girl jumpingfrom the bridge is not sad. fireworks comein unexpected places, times; i preferdark humor, the hikikomori alone in trash. we could talk, afterthe movie? my muse diedon a staircase — film compromiseupon film comprise untildivorce. alternatively, he becomes something else: the boywith the something, saying somethingkind; you should know, my… Continue reading poem: disorder

poem: crying after a fight with my mother, twenty-twenty

in the autumn far-awayi read a portrait of the artist as a young manunder the trees, under the universityand i was notthe drama, the failure. waitingoutside the daycare, an after-somethingjob for the boring, earbuds and trite tragicmusic wrapped around my skull. i stayed very latein cafes, no-whip-cafe-mochaand scholarship questions, dreaminghopelessly and i — droppedthe history… Continue reading poem: crying after a fight with my mother, twenty-twenty

poem: self-awareness is possibly just narcissism

hey soul someone,i fell out of your eyes. we disagreeon politics, religion; you are tooexcited to see me. guess whatall my characters, soul-mates,fake/college/friendsare still bitches: whinyand not really depressed. it's justdespair, i'm justdespair-ed. the internethowever beats on,an eternal shared heart.what do we have after post-modernism? not much;good-fucking-bye to human progress. and youwatched me walkaway, the… Continue reading poem: self-awareness is possibly just narcissism

poem: all madness, no genius, pt. 1

two thousand 17;the aesthetic of this,it is like spring, the old suicide days, when the poemsdripped — no punctuation.music stuck spiral-likein my throat, the pulsing pulsingwonder: my chemical shitin the bathroom (before class)the animalism of no-onemeeting your eyes — I cannotwrite like thatanymore. The downsidesof friends, of making it. two thousand 19/20;remember the chemical swings,the… Continue reading poem: all madness, no genius, pt. 1

poem: alcohol on zoloft

watching in the half-formed – now, the suddenness of nothing; i sit, i carefully implode. imaginedrinks & broadway at midnight,swaying in my mirror like a banshee,the erotic ancient womenspiraling in my mouth. the memorycomes – abruptly. Picturesframed by rims of black, in whichi am naked, someone else: the large dreams, the mansions,the careful British decor.… Continue reading poem: alcohol on zoloft

writing: the things that happened today

I stood in the shower a long time and imagined getting out, taking my towel from the hook and wrapping it around my body, and then unclipping my hair and shaking it loose and bunching the curls between my fingers, and walking back to my dorm room. My room is clean. Nothing else, lately, has… Continue reading writing: the things that happened today

poem: autumn / catch me i’m falling

highschool-me listened to far awaymusicals, the rx a foreign and edgy thing, everything sex, men smilingand cum dripping out; now the normalis redone and i watch – ravens land on old buildings,the turrets gothic, lined against the fall;nothing is magic – not the rawcoming in calendars, the daysfalling into vampire schedules, five a.m. blinking, late… Continue reading poem: autumn / catch me i’m falling

poem: september mental illness

is it fall? —outside the madhouse windows?i have not showeredin three days, but i would liketo let the air cut me, the trees loose — danse —the new and old risingtogether: foreign dramasin dead worlds, patchinggardens, spirits in oldbooks, old spells —the split apple on my lip,wet like sex,dark and strange like innocence. i would like —to wash myself… Continue reading poem: september mental illness

poem: emo song where the boy saves the girl, actually

alternatively titled: "buffy, season six" i am New York in the window,i am Paris in the glass.can you find me, i amlaughing—can you find me,i won’t last.cities in the stardustmake shit inside my head,can i sleep with Prague?with the adolescent-dead?the boys are saving nothingthe boys are going madi am just an illnesspathetic, never had.can you… Continue reading poem: emo song where the boy saves the girl, actually