0 0 0

I miss you

I miss you

like an ache in my bones

contracted muscles

encompassing an empty space

wandering eyes

to find a reminder on my finger


carved into my skull

that'll never reach my lips

my mouth going through the motions

but never amounting to much

and my fingers

inching towards

but never hitting 

the send button

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[title undecided]

Frenetic fireflies glinted behind her eyes that summer. I didn't know what had changed her, but she swung her arms freely, wore loose hemp bracelets with colored beads, drew wild birds with marker in the crooks of her elbows: I never knew till then she was ambidextrous. Electricity crackled and sparked between us like lightning kissing telephone wires in a midsummer storm. I kept hoping her straw-colored hair was wild and dry enough to light a fire in, but all summer long we smiled and laughed and smiled; she thirsted too much to drive her closed eyelids into the rain, so I indulged it all, glad, at least, for her presence.

Once, at school, I snuck up behind her during lunchtime as she stared intently into her white computer screen at an empty table beside the wall. As I reached out to poke her in the ribs my eyes glanced across text and the blinking cursor: Pond water festers in my veins and my heart has stopped trying to turn it into blood. I have been trying to forget myself before anyone else remembers me. I backtracked, stepped quietly away, but sometimes when she looks me in the eyes and asks me where the thunder's gone I wonder whether she heard me breathing behind her, then.

She vowed, one spring night under the stars, after hours clinging so hard to a boy's stomach as his motorbike screamed down a deserted Minnesota highway that the imprint of her clenched fists took three days to fade from his skin, to exist. This I learned after her death, after that summer, when the boy came up to the funeral podium holding a battered piece of paper that held only aimless sketches of her eyes and crumpled against it. After he left her, the only way she knew how to hold onto him was by expanding in her promise to live, and so she did wildly, desperately, swallowing soil and sunshine into her open throat to grow wildflowers out of each of her orifices. After that summer was over, they told her she had to let go. So she let autumn dry the auburn leaves and pressed her wildflowers between the pages of her journal, and as one by one the foliage fell, she let go.

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Rape Culture

When you’re ten
and your father’s
friends grin
and tell you how nicely
you’re developing, 
you learn to keep playing
and say thank you
because you’re still
too young to understand
just what they mean 
by that. 
When you’re thirteen
and your mother’s
lover buys you a new 
dress because
“it’ll look sexy on you”,
you learn to wear it  
no matter how much you
hate it
and say thank you 
because you don’t want
to cause another argument.
When you’re sixteen
and that guy on the football team
spikes your drink at a party
and muffles your screams with
his fist as he 
slams himself into you
you learn to keep your mouth
and say thank you
because you know nobody
is going to believe you
if you tell the
When you’re twenty
and your mind gets the best of you
telling you it was all your fault, 
you deserved it,
nobody will ever want you now, 
you learn to
and say thank you
because you know that
for the first time
the power is in your

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expressing welcome

Rusty metal bridge and an angry running stream show life beginning to thaw
The cold bitterness is breaking to saturate the pores of the land and give way to a movement seemingly going forward …. All the while a single ponder
In which the search for influence , a mental stimulant , a convincing factor 
stating that it is okay to be here and to move forward as well.

2 0 2

At yonder poetry

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1 0 1

Something made

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0 0 0

The Falsity of Touching

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1 0 1

brought to bay

A nightmare -
slash and burn
and public executions
the colosseum walls broken
spilling a thirsty flood
onto satellites 
the berserker roars of 
encore encore!
the fat lady singing
but no one hears
no one hears
with ear drums burst -
Let me wake now
I want to be awakened by song 


0 0 0



equivocate illusion

in vision's luminosity

shifting sand of pattern


maybe life


colour changes hue

commencing red to blue

blind eyes begin

3 0 3

People used to read the TV Guide

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