Would I trade myself in
To get back the other me
And all the people who once came along
With her?
No matter how solitary I’ve become
I won’t be indulging in any trade-backs
Or games of tradesies.
What’s done is done.
You can’t unchange the changes,
Or unsay anything once said.
You can’t really unswallow a pill;
But you can choke down all the charcoal
And try though….
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** The pill reference is not a “red pill” reference. ***
Right after she was born
I had terrible claustrophobia.
It only lasted a few days but it was
Mental hell.
When night time fell,
That always made it worse.
I was afraid to fall asleep
But also afraid to not fall asleep.
Afraid to sleep, to not fall asleep…
The frustration of that birthed an unfamiliar terror
That made me want to sleep
And to not want to sleep
Both and neither
Ever and never again.
Because sleeping felt like being locked in a box.
Because not sleeping felt like being locked in a box.
Locked in a fucking shrinking stinking box
With tingles of muted light breathing in through the little corner spots of the box.
And it felt like it was getting smaller with every collapsing breath.
It’s been a while
But I’m still recovering from that dark dwarfing feeling,
And sometimes forget
That I am not (currently)
Locked
In
A
Box
Though
I fear
That part of me always will be.
~~~
👽❤
~~~
*** Just breathe…. It’s behind you now…. It was 8 years… or 8 seconds… ago. ***
Light
My dark
Up in flames
And exfoliate
My cat-tongued sandpaper heart
With lickings, lappings and lullings —
Countless many.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
I hear you in the quiet spaces of my soul,
And write you between the invisible lines
Seen and read only by me.
When I expel the heart-heated breath from my staggering lungs,
I feel you on the breeze,
Slipping through my open-mouthed vowels,
Licking wild rivers down the silken insides of my quaking thighs;
They shake the flesh from the bone from how violently you rattle me, my sweet love.
Burn me on my dark side first
And unmute the covered moans
Hiding in the curled-up crinkled corners
Of me.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
If I could
Devour every ounce
Of your pain
And discomfort
And trauma,
Then burp it into the aether
And out of existence,
I would do it
In a wing beat.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
On all of the wobbly tables
Near open windows on gusty windswept days
And on surfaces dangerously close
To the errant paws of asshole cats
Sit delicate vases of bone china
Ready to crack, craze, shatter and split
Wide open
At fucking whispers.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** There is so much fragility in humanity right now… and it isn’t exclusive. ***
I am
At present
The very definition
Of the word hibernation.
Like there is no difference
Between the word itself
And what it means.
If you search between the letters
You’ll find me curled into a winter sleep
And drooling on the negative space.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Still waiting for the sun to return… But it’s on its way… so I’ve heard…. ***
The only words
I have left to say
Cannot be said
In words.
~~~
❤👽
Sometimes
I sit on a little easily-ignored perch
And someone will catch my eye
For one reason or another
And I will watch them
At length
Like a secret voyeur
And watch and watch and watch
With rapt attention and unquenchable curiosity
Sometimes unblinking
Until they either
Vanish from my sight
Or notice.
I am a tame voyeur, and a huntress without any particular bloodlust.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Basically a creeper, eh, Blue Eyes?…. ***
*** Sure. Me and everyone else. But at least I admit it. I lurk in all the brightly lit corners. ***
Parsnips
Are just ghost carrots.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** It’s been a long week…. The mind loosens a bit…. ***
Self-murderous mukbang madness
Gulping gluttony through a green-energy-made paper straw
And gleefully (sorrowfully) gorging on delectably delicious death on a styrofoam plate
After plate
After plate
After plate
All free
All day
Livestreamed on YouTube
For your viewing pleasure
And their profit
Mmmm mmmm good
We’re so loving it (duhduh-duh-duhduh)
Why read a book about running horses to the bone,
When you can watch it
For a fraction of the braincells.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Now THAT is how to profit off of a slow-mo suicide! Way to go, YouTube! ***
*** Some of you know that I get… uh… mouthy… at certain points in my cycle. I have a platoon of furious little gremlins stampeding through my bloodstream right now. Sorry. ***
Flakebook
Fuckbook
Fakebook
Facefuck
Fakefuck
Fuckface
Fakeface
Flakefuck
Fuckflake
Fluckfake
Fuckingflakeyfakefacefucker
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckityfuck
Fuckme
I can’t
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Oh look! Another lazy non-poem! Keep it up, Sugar Tits! 🙄 ***
*** Póg mo thóin, Old Man. I have some rage at the moment…. Indulge me for a sec, wontcha? ***
…
De–
institution–
alization.
…
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Trying to look clever again, Sugar Tits? ***
*** The operative word is “look”, isn’t it, Old Man? Also… I literally thought of one of the longest words I know, and decided that it is poetry. Sad poetry, though. ***
I hear the silencing
Taking place
All around me
In all corners of life —
Real and virtual;
No one can hide from it —
No, not even YOU.
There is
A taking down of voice(s),
A collective replacing/erasing/enshrouding
Of thought
Of word
Of criticism and critical thinking
Of difference and deviation
Of discussion and disagreement.
A figurative burning
Of books and ideas
Of nuance
Of freedom of expression and speech.
Newspeak is our new language, people!
Fucking SPEAK IT (do it, you little bitches)
Or face the hunters at your door steps;
They’re waiting with their pitchforks and fires and their salivating chops.
So
Let’s all say it together
Because it is a part of everyone’s brand new compelled lexicon now:
BAAAAAAAH!
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Fuck the world right now… seriously. ***
*** And fuck the Thought Police too. Yeah. I said it! ***
I can hide
All of my little secret smiles
In public now,
And I don’t have to explain to a soul
What curls my lips so.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Masks also keep your face warm, and allow you to converse with yourself without attracting unwanted attention. ***
Take
Me
Home
…
Please
…
And thank you.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
Inky black gash-like silhouettes
Moving as one
Against the pinkorange sunrise sky;
Hard to ignore
A vision quite like that.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** I love that a group of crows is called “a murder”. ***
He has the kind of laugh
That befits a sweaty and wholly satisfied
Post-coital situation:
Husky
Lustful
And full of private possibilities…
A bedroom laugh.
Parts of me clench and dampen
At the very sinful thought of it.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Eavesdropping again, Sweet Cheeks? Very naughty. ***
*** The ear overhears what the ear wants to overhear. Plus… laughter can be an afrodisiac. Plus… anything can be afrodisiac when you’re about to drop an egg. Fuck. ***
I have found ways to operate
Within the confines
Of the various matrices
Of my life.
I have found ways
To be
Free range.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Ahem…. Like a hen? ***
*** Freedom is relative. ***
I was there
Even though
I wasn’t really there.
But I was there, man.
I took the brown acid
And hallucinated myself
Into being
11 years
Before I was born.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Feeling nostalgic for an experience you never experienced, Angel Eyes? ***
*** I experienced it. Many times… and many more to come. 3D isn’t my only reality, maaaan. ***
