Poem: Anarchy is fun; you should try it
I am like Thumbelina
But I don’t quite fit anywhere
Two devout Russian Orthodox women are going to a NATO-ruled country to buy the world’s finest, pristine porcelain to throw it at indoor walls
The best poison was made
In my father’s grave
And I love him for forever hating the country I live in
Poem: Skin-tight clothes (brainwashed)
I saw, I saw that you were beckoning for the sea
(Told me you couldn’t swim, told me you couldn’t swim)
I stood there, pink ribbons in my hair, on an off-white, paint-faded ship
Thinking oh man, oh man
He thinks I’m going to dive in and save him
When I unravel, I am
Terrified
Of turning into you
I spit and scratch the walls so loud
I’m scared the world
Is made of you
I stick my tongue out
At the wrong crowd
Oh my god, I’m so alone
I come bleeding
To the ER
They say, I should just go home
Poem: Skin-tight clothes – brainwashed (continued)
I don’t want this to stop
Me from meeting someone
That would love bringing me flowers
By my bedside when I deeply sleep
I’ll never wake up
To daffodils
If you’re staying up late
Working on your manuscript
I hate your brown eyes
Because that’s my type
I don’t want this to stop
Me from meeting someone
I stick my tongue out
At the wrong crowd
Oh my god, I felt so completely alone
I stared at
My stupid phone
Like a teen
Like a naive little
Teen
Poem: Skin-tight clothes – brainwashed (continued)
I secretly, I secretly think you liked it all along
Pulling me left just to wreck the boat
Spilling my champagne and me nervously blaming it
On the musculature of my skeletal framework
What a girl, what awful weather
To spend with someone who’s complaining, had me thinking, “this is actually my favourite kind”
Lightning bolts
When the sky collapses like it’s angry
And bitter
Writing poetry
Months after
I secretly, I secretly think you adore all of this
You’d throw me to the eels if I didn’t know how to swim
But it was you deep down under the pouring, crashing waves
Tormenting your most refined, well-calculated grace
And I am one of the best swimmers this Earth has ever seen
But there came a moment where I could no longer see
Then, I could breathe, and you couldn’t hate me for it
So in love with the delusional chaos of the ocean
Oh, you hate it, oh, you must hate it
That I have a God that knows my full name
Poem: Skin-tight clothes – brainwashed (continued)
You think religion is a brainwashing force
Well, I think you over-dry your skin-tight clothes
I ran so hard I almost collapsed, and I started to laugh
So free, so free, should have seen me finally feel so free
Not attached to memories
Oh, you must hate it
That I can be my own blanket
That I can be a saviour
That I don’t need a faux promise or a parched favour
I saw you, perched over, frightened of the waves
You said let’s just leave, save this for another day
I pushed you in because I trusted the Earth
To swallow you whole and make you
Comfortable
That was a battle I truly lost
But God loves me, oh, you must have forgot
You must have forgot,
What a terrible thought
That I can be taken care of by something that’ll cleanse my brain
So brainwashed
Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)
I think we’re
Not getting too wrapped up
I’ll get up soon
To turn the microwave off
I think we’re
Naturally not too wrapped up
I’ll get up later
To turn the microwave off
I scratched my leg violently on rose thorns
As if I would ever mind
It’s been a long time since
Brown eyes, green eyes
I hate when they turn hazel
Like an olive tree
Park my car on Chestnut avenue
It’s a longer walk but
I like the name
Burn it to see embers
Collect street signs
All the rose thorns in the world are allowed to scratch me
In fact, I’ll invite them with bliss
Using long, Bambi eyelashes
Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick) [continued]
I think you would be
Friends with the quarterback
I never cared about football
We could make fun of
The way they drop the ball
(Again!)
Wearing their jerseys’ cos we like the material
So supportive
What a team effort
I clench my hands together because otherwise I think I’m going to lose my mind
I never really understood the concept of romance
Is it you buying me a vegan strawberry milkshake?
Dirt on my face at the park and you think I look pretty?
I have thousands of songs I’ve been dying to share
With somebody
They mean
Too much to me
To share, though
So I’ll
Keep them to myself
Out of bad habit
I’m the bad habit
Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick)[continued]
Show up late and get there just on time
I wouldn’t get through security clearance with that
Type of ambivalence I could
Make a rosebud dream
Of grabbing me from the interior and
Turning me inside out
So the world could know
I wouldn’t get through security clearance like this
Not a love poem: Olive tree (take your pick) [continued]
What’s that?
Is that romance
You getting me a vegan strawberry milkshake?
That I put in the fridge
To enjoy my second half the very next day
Laughing to myself
Sharp edges soften
My shampoo smells lovely
I can’t get through security clearance like this
An olive tree
Okay, I’ll be an olive tree
If you pick me
Okay,
I’ll be an olive tree
If you choose me
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Not a love poem: Swan lake memories
Butterflies flying into me, crashing lightly
You told me my skin was soft, and though I knew it to be true,
I felt in part indebted to you.
Like I couldn’t carve out a space
Large enough to climb into
Show you why your dreams are just make-believe
Not my responsibility to teach anybody anything
Because who do I think I am
Easily tan, have Swan Lake memorized & I do pirouettes in my dining room
I still remember the dress I planned to wear
Continues to hang on the shelf
I don’t look in that specific direction
Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)
Exhausted from doing nothing at all
About how your bad habits look even worse when I look into a microscope
Focusing on school
Highlighting my study materials
No, not you – there, waiting for me,
Opening the door
Letting me cry
Telling me you liked how I felt safe.
I want to hate the trees you like, but there are so many in every place I’ve visited in the last year, and I feel weak when I want to photograph them because they’re so beautiful, and memory plays in time-lapse frames to make me feel sick and dismal with its reminders.
I feel weak anyway
I know the neuroscience of loss, but who I wanted to be I forgot
You make me weak, you made me vulnerable
I loved it and I hated it
I retained it
Delicate like a fine-point pen drawing insects on your arm that isn’t covered in tattoos
I wish I could hate you
Not a love poem: Swan lake memories (continued)
I’ll move like a moth, I think you forgot
The area code that leads to a postcode
That leads to a telephone wire on an absolutely fragrant fire
In the middle of the city, and the chaos causes lawsuits
We like it because we’re in trouble
Playing tag in the backyard of your grandparents’ house
I miss the smell of hydrangeas
That changed colours
When they felt like it, like I do
I feel weak in places I didn’t know were part of me
When I see a tree
That makes me think, he must be there
Sitting pleasantly
Wasting his life without me
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Poem: In real time (vast chasm)
Arched back, my universe
A mint sage green to invigorate me since I’m so,
Tired of the way things have been going
Parts of me I loved, not really showing
Vintage glamour too much of an effort; I’m sinking down
I know that I swim very well, so it’s not sensible to drown
But I have this one thought I want to get rid of
That maybe it’s peaceful down there
I know I can bring to this valley some flowers
But what if the prettiest ones are underground
I’m scared of this one thought I pretend not to have
That maybe I can take something and finally find out
I’m scared of this one thought I have
I simultaneously do and don’t want to be
Wondering if people in other vehicles on the freeway can see me crying.
The depth of the city
Pale bloom mid-toned grey, avalanche of a highway
Miles per hour in the hundreds – this is my place
It’s my crisp green apple
So why am I disconsolate in lowercase
Feeding into a winter sunrise that falls on me like a torrential downpour
Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)
Your brown eyes, they see something in me
Oh, I believe it
But I know I need to see something too
I’m scared of this one thought I have
That perhaps this book is becoming too long
I have all these notebooks
I’ve never written in
I have all these contacts
That I just delete
The sun hits me hard and the skies wake me up, but the noise is like tar and I do love the black
But the panic attacks
The heirloom pink that fades so fast
When I eventually fall asleep
Time and space not linked, so casually on the brink
Of falling in
Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)
Don’t want to be someone
That is too tired to make their own cup of
Coffee
Don’t feel I need someone
Halfway think I don’t deserve it
It feels so unconventional but on-purpose
Like a car that refuses to accept gasoline
I have a fence
That grows taller around me
I spin in circles
But not to break free
If someone saw this
They’d conclude I was insane
But I am clearing cobwebs
From my own brain
Poem, continued: In real time (vast chasm)
Arched back, my universe
Anabolism and violent television shows that I don’t watch
Avoiding mass speculation and trembling violations
My white chair that faces two separate vases of flowers
I love it here
And I can’t bare to hate anything at all
Except being
Unable
To make
A cup of coffee
In real time
I am surprised
That I
Can write
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