My grades went up when math started tossing
letters between numbers and trying to solve for shapes I have a hard time believing people who tell me the world is a different shade of bullshit than the one I'm looking at I was born in a green month that borders on blue I think swimming will heal me before running I don't think it's a coincidence that I experimented with colored text the same years I experimented with hallucinogenics Now I don't even use ibuprofen Now that the world is pretending it's ok to be feral again I see every snow clutched running river as a bug zapper I keep making the same plans with friends who aren't interested in making plans with me anymore I don't know if this means they have moved beyond me or if it is time for me to move beyond them.
0 Comments
When someone tells me I want you
to fart in my mouth I nod politely and chart a course to what's for dinner My kink is not talking about other people's kink I like mortality and baseball caps men who laugh at their own jokes because they're funny vaccines and cat memes I like liking things I like and not explaining why I like them I like seeing my friend in convex mirrors forgetting what I've dreamed before I can write it down Holes in the leather jackets of people who smoke cigarettes in private bars that exclude I like pretending to care about who wins sporting events until I fool myself into genuinely caring When I see a man who knows what he wants I get out of his way so he can get that thing and leave me alone I want to spend forty-five minutes reading every takeout menu in the state before we order the same thing we eat every Thursday What if we became every fifteen year old stand-up routine pausing for laughter at familiar intervals? If I can be original for a minute then I can be original for an hour I can stop asking myself where I've heard this idea before —a sailor that was always drunk traitor --
faun-like founders of the city of rome chimney creator —trap —found in chimney →fire burning escape poet —crazy love ——difficult to define rampant }he was busy —partial shadow + an eclipse —egyptian god that made people fall in love like cupid] —you are god of sheep & flock he was linked in beastly virgin legend that judas in the —singing —thrumming —playful flirtation he desires for her to speak 50s & 60s →art of dadaism — surrealism —improper —sexual implication —pain reliever —enjoying —pleasure pain --the last of doors that had discovered music — greek god of lust [he dirty secretive sneaky traditional spanish remedies —the dead city museum b/c that’s where all the love affairs manwhore —wishes —intimacy —touch —sexual —longing —dry pan being moved on —a river of no control --a sour action of having sex —action of having sex animal’s abilities —king of the gods —cares —makes himself love death connotations sin + temptation →demon in the they live ——out of the dead curled milk — he gets aroused —act of having weight —obsession ——battle —killing of babies —mostly women female form of a man indecipherable woman to seduce one —engage from —pastupbringing crazy sounds of sex —condom —cum old ways children or men —most evil time opposite 3pm — most holy — end of the afterlife/death —a stone coffin —early archeologists river of the dead shorebird not too high not artifacts are the sarcophagi vials of ash etc —b/c of marriage wife of zeus —twins raised by wolves babies women try to escape the fate lives kills her children --necrophilius dead city of of him — intimately wants to hear her say his fire —trickster —player —used many disguises — bull sheperd promotes social interaction —fire center of attention —large disastrous part of the process —a →soul indecipherable —inability to move on →dirty doves in —a skinning knife monster made of different parts god in dreams —not 1st time →not pleasant →familiar scent bible hanged himself on all he stands for --a betrayer —nipples —a museum in flame }we start believing our handsome seductive city of wealth & business —virgin —dildo —porn — —americans —open to sex —closed to sociological — sum up main points painting god of isis --thionisis also known as the victim —entertainer ladies man promotes peace →sex intimacy }bold but afraid —abusive sun →actress model too low consequences of childlike behavior → indecipherable There is no moon some nights
People are a primal scream Square on the stretcher of an autumn guess We were told to expect demons this election Two bottles of humid spiel scanning the same marsh they were forcibly removed from Police trail in the wake of winged spiders The apocalypse looks moist and local One of the more stable people at the polling center plops down yelling exit! in leathery registers I didn't give up on drinking
I quit without notice but some nights I stop by and help empty a glass or two I don't think I've hurt anyone drunk that I didn't also hurt sober I drank to have ice to swish to land a barb not to impair my judgement not to forget I'm a cruel sober Now I drink soda with hipster accoutrements which I also did when I was still drinking alcohol I guess I haven't changed much apart from spending less money in bars I stopped drinking often when I met my last love who doesn't drink Like me For no regretful reason And yet I don't remember ever meeting anyone in bars that I wanted to take home or to accompany to their sordid apartment I don't know how anything connects anymore I fear it's because I'm a stupid sober That I need a slight haze of chemical depression to understand how life works I really am a stupid sober to look back at the forgetful drunk I used to be And wish I could get that feeling back Arch of whiskers dangle
A soft sneeze in a dark cave Across the living room The sleeping nemesis lifts her head puffs out her greyest fur squeaks her highest pitch saunters to the safety of the kitchen like she fears no one Msikquatash is a stolen word we never learned
to spell properly like quayaq and iglu I don’t think I’ve ever tasted its salt on my tongue the way the recipe intended I wrote it so American so many times I believed I was right I believed I was American And now I believe that pointing out that I was once mistaken should make everyone feel better and forgiving Because America Who I fuck has never been the business of anyone I’ve felt the need to tell which is why I stayed so silent until my mid-twenties when I needed everyone to know how much I didn’t need them or their approval Every version of heaven I’ve ever written seems like a curse for the builders to satiate the needs of the most broken people I’ve ever loved Whenever I try to answer a complicated question with an experience I remember as being simple and helpful I gather the quizzical looks of men who love me even if they realize we’ve never really spoken the same language. A half century approaches on cruise control
high beamed in the oncoming lane . and there is nothing I can do but wait for it to pass me . and blind someone else . I’m listening to an audiobook version of my autobiography . as read by Ellen DeGeneres . affecting an offensive impersonation of Charles Nelson Reilly . and it’s hard to render what’s really happened to me . and what I made up to make myself seem more interesting . My first dead boyfriend is a mantra . I whisper when I need to remember I am human . and can survive . grief . I place his body between the one night stand . who showed up at my work when I wouldn’t respond to his texts . and the long-term boyfriend who pretended his father had a heart attack so he wouldn’t have to pay me his back rent Which of them told me I was unlovable ? Which of them asked me if I would marry them ? so that they could establish residency in my bedroom ? And why did I laugh at neither of them ? When I was trying to determine which celebrity would be the most absurd choice to read . the audiobook of my autobiography . I googled famous gay sluts . and the only thing that came up was porn . When I asked my partner to name a queer person real or fictional . famous for either sleeping around or being awful . neither of us could come up with a single name . So why are supposedly straight Republicans so afraid of our influence ? Popcorn fogs the windows and butter smokes the air. We all sit hungry around our ignorance, a baffle of friends. We know we're awake because all the books in the library have real words in them and we can understand the stories instead of having to create our own. Emily doesn't remember how we got there so none of us remember how we got there. In the library. Five novels high on the side of a mountain in a country none of us recognize, the library is a castle moated by the sky. The sky is a lifejacket. The sky is a mother goose. Mother geese aren't sweet. They don't tell stories. Mother geese hiss. Mother geese spread their wings to look larger. Mother geese waddle at predators until they retreat. We are in a retreat. We are writing down our safer pasts. We are remembering optimistically. Popcorn fogs the windows and butter smokes the air. Our childhood heroes hiss Christian at our adulthood. Comedians and politicians tell our friends they aren't real. The children's section starts to collapse shelf by shelf until only banned books remain. We start talking about how we met and when we last felt truly full of ourselves.
The sea can swallow cities but chooses not to
would rather wash the population inland and erode the infrastructure than drag more of the world into its already full belly Plato didn’t know this and so generations of historians who didn’t understand allegory didn’t know this and so optimists and pirates dove for an Atlantis that never existed When I was at my most twenty-somethingth someone I’d mistakenly labelled friend told me to give up on finding love that it was fiction people wallowed in infatuation until they found someone equal parts roommate and sex doll that everyone closed their eyes when they fucked because the truth was never as good as imagination Maybe the truth is friendship is fiction and love is real history is fiction and advice is hope sexual chemistry is more religion than science touch is imagination and desire is memory Maybe when we want something we should cross our synapses instead of fingers I didn’t find love when I was looking for something else I found it when I was looking for love It wasn’t in the most obvious spot but like my constantly shimmering keys and cell phone in the place where I eventually found it and I grumbled to myself that it wasn’t there when I looked in that exact spot a few minutes ago And you best believe that a friend who fit the same hole in my judgement as the man who told me love wasn’t real told me that even if love as a concept was real what I was currently holding in the night was not love but desperate imagination I don’t know why Scott told me love wasn’t real that I should just shut my eyes and fuck my imagination into whoever was willing to lie beside me why I believed him enough to close my eyes and love him |
InteractionalityAn ongoing conversation between writers and the text that they're reading. Archives
December 2023
Categories
All
|