Embroil me in your chaos
I want to feel your flames lick my temples
Show me the puzzle pieces hidden in moonlight Let me dance in your maelstrom.

Strip for me, baby,
without ever touching fabric.

The oracle of Delphi sat enveloped in invisible fumes and rambled
Until people deciphered her words and took them as scripture. Or Maybe
The fumes were Apollo whispering in her ears,
telling her secrets she could only decipher.

Divinity is as divine as you make it.

Somewhere the three sisters sit with the threads of fate
Wrapped around their ( Read more... )

Ahoy, a sea grackle!

An airborne kraken shrouded in mystery and fury,
flying above the bay as a dot,
midnight astray.

Where are you going,
what will you do?
Explore the world for me, sweet beast,
explore it true.

When I think of bicycles,
I think of the rose bush I crashed into when I was 13, or 14, or 15
At my uncle's cul de sac before he cheated on his wife and imploded his marriage.

I think of Madrid gravel at a park with magpies and huge green trees.
I hadn't ridden a bike since the rose bush but I was determined so I hopped on a rented bike and did ( Read more... )

A horse walks into a bar and the bartender says "why the long face?"

That's how you start off a funny poem, right?
The first one you've written, because it's easier to write while in the maelstrom of sadness and despair.
Mental health tiktok says it's not good to disassociate.
The lady that reads my tarot twice a year told me to write until my ( Read more... )

The white pillar candles are $8 at Target.
I buy them and forget to light them,
make a note to buy little decorative plates to put them on so the wax doesn’t drip onto the dresser bought at IKEA when the moon was still young,
the one we had to disassemble when it was almost
finished because J did it backwards and the drawers wouldn’t roll in.

Instead I ( Read more... )

I want to watch her eat a strawberry.

I'm biting my nails

I'm waking up at 4 am

I'm listening to self help talks about not needing anyone and the power of being single

I'm making out with my hand, open handed, and telling everyone about it

I'm getting excited and deflating like a balloon because I don't want to be too much and I don't want to fly off too far from the net

I'm watching ( Read more... )

Don't pour from an empty cup, they say. Only the overflow but what if you don't know what that means, what if the idea of an overflowing cup is so abstract that just the thought of having a good day without any expectations feels foreign, like a Russian vowel on a tongue that has never seen the Pacific?

I learned to type without staring at the keyboard because I needed to type in a way fast enough to catch up to my brain. Write with pens, write on paper. Doesn’t work for me. Doesn’t. Doesn’t. Another word to add to the trunk at the end of the bed full of things to do and things to talk about or not talk about. I’ve always been queen of repression ( Read more... )