"umbrella" (pt. 1 and 2), "magenta. pulsing", "room mate", "space fucking"

[fourmeansfive]

i've been doing this thing where i'm randomly into writing.


"umbrella"

i'm sort of. uncomfortable, but waiting
for something i tell myself i'm not
and upside down, things look softer.


"umbrella: that part you hold, that's the hook"

And upside down, things look softer
suspended in air not meant for
me to breathe.
And down here, things look brighter
expanded in sky not meant for
me to see
though we do.


"magenta. pulsing."

We are in the loudest room
I am dancing, I am watching
your mouth moving to silence.
I am dancing, you are listening to me dance
you are gripping my spine.
I am grasping for feeling
there are windows, shut
and I am only proud
in my ability.
we are in the loudest room,
i taste nothing.


"room mate"

you always toss
things at the
front door.
I wish there was space to dance by
myself.
I am always self
conscious. I always
never listen. I am
always breathing
her air. am I anything
of myself?
We always go into
this area and
stay shut up for
days with some
voice. Five left
and there's
restless in my
lines. I always
catch things
at the throat.


"space fucking"

we only
spacefuck in
silence.
(I suppose I ask much
of you,
but these things will
only expose themselves
in the dark.)
I hope I scare you
enough to come
crawling back.