my heart is tired
she wants to go home
i tried to build her one
but they’re all too small
she never fit
Ripe and Mean
When we went without
I forgot my name
Things were not good
We’d be ripe and mean
We’d beg and fight
Skin splitting
Play tug of war with our faces
Growl through negative space
I am awake
I am awake
I am awake
I plead
insanity
I give
him control
Still
painting him in contrast
Collapsed
When I experience grief
I open and everything enters.
There is no space.
I’m suffocated by spirits.
I’m blotchy, dry, aching.
— from Repetitions of RuinÂ
(incantations from the same wound)
Nest of Sorrow
I just sit in my nest.
And wail and cry and sob.
I’m fragile and I delight in explosion.
At the edge of grief
I’m swallowed by it whole.
— from Repetitions of Ruin
(incantations from the same wound)
I Wore You
we had the same conversations like it was yesterday
i wore blue for days and days straight
i wore all my fibers as you
i knew you were blue too
i fasted
i was corrupt
you wouldn’t let my burn touch a thing
you laughed in the face of it
Saltblood Psalms
My deep breaths fuel my heart
Just one more night
After another
What a chore
A force of nature
To be here
To stay
To feel everything
A life of suffering—
I thrive off that shit
Like a brutal winter
My heart is raw and unfiltered
I dove deep to see her
The sacred red
Of the swallowed sea
She’ll find me
Begging
On plastered knees
She just wants to be safe
Satiated
Saved
Opposites
Intention
She and I marry as she loosened her hair
I was warm between her legs
She was home
Welcoming
I loved to please her
I willingly submitted
She knew she was my baby
I knew how to make her come back
She was my intuition
Our whispering heads
Dancing heart
She played tug of war
Passioned
Me
I made love
She is my intention
Must
“One mustn’t fret, but instead breathe. Fall into the void of life. Smile, hands up. Embrace the ride..”
“One must ground daily with the percussion of the past performing. One must be here, find it wherever you are..”
Bug On A Wall
“Bug on a wall, doe eyed, pressed to a window, steamed and well, comfortable..
I handled the last storm.
I’ve been meeting people who look like me again. I must admit I’m timid and shy to approach..”
Freegrandmaa 