The things I see, the things I love
Love poem: Sensitive girl
My father taught me how to shoot
Oh, he sure did, he taught me real well
But I’m a very sensitive girl
What would I really do if I was in front of you?
I don’t think I’d pull the trigger
I would most likely let you.
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions)
Rose petals with lime in my hot coffee
Author’s alterations, metasomatism beneath my bedsheets
Making changes to my will because I will outlive my instruments & garments
I’m the most proper fit, and I laugh to myself
Because nobody else thinks it to be true
Playing in the garden all night long
If you’re made of arachidonic acid, you’re still not essential to me
Accelerated depreciation is like using plastic
So casual for you
The cavity where I reside is not accepting visitation
Though you can leave the fleurs and baguettes at the doorstep
Can I be a princess for once, please?
Can someone naturally want to take care of me?
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
My abdomen is covered in spears
I don’t know where they came from
He found it addicting, and I chose not to feel bad, because I settled for a freedom that involved both him and me
I’m stored in the nacelle, and you’re a half-decent engineer
Who works so much he loses sight of
The real thing
When it’s engaging in self-piercing
Damaging increments
Fingernails painted dusty pink
I feel a permanent wholesome vacancy
A vacant office
A vacant smile
A vacant estate
A vacant room
A vacant seat on a bus
A vacant throne
A disengaged observer
Sometimes I wish you would just look at me
Stare at me so I would feel like I was really living, here.
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
An abandoned factory
An abandoned field
An abandoned vehicle
An abandoned baby
I was left to fall into a state of disuse
And then I had to pick myself up
Here we are, I’m staring at Chicago on the plane’s seat live screen map, and I want to cry, because it’s screaming out at me
“You need to get rid of everything so that I can consume you in full”
Nobody can love you so much to the point that you can’t leave
This is everything and all that you want
To the point where a low-quality live map brings tears to my turning-dark-green eyes
Straightforward without reserve, my advocacy for my well-being
Openhearted and honest with my eternal sin
That I’m falling more and more in love with
I want what’s favorable
I accept what makes me want to sink, not just mine, but all of the ships
Things highly unpleasant to me are advantageous to the attitude I want to cultivate
Impartial to how we couldn’t quite relate
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
I’ve got dandelions in my hair
The right guy won’t blow my wishes out
A commendatory view of my well-calculated decision and unruly spirit
I appreciate it all
The astronomical pitfalls
Everything is beautiful to me
If it wasn’t, I would not have stayed around here
Poem: Four thoughts (Chicago dandelions) [continued]
Sweet and angelic of you, a stranger said
Looked at me with the admiration the last few lacked
In a Duty Free store
I learned to be safe in my own skin
Complimentary to my own skeleton
Dandelions in my hair
The right guy won’t blow my wishes out
She was always four thoughts ahead of everyone else
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Love poem: Forever holds onto me
I was holding onto you
I was holding onto you
There was nothing I could do
There was nothing I could do
But only to know that I’d forever be helplessly in love with you
My best, world’s best, memories
Were me with fingertips
And the silly little way you walked
My starlight, my noble gas
My everything and all I could give inside one celestial collapse
I find it impossible
How one could not look
At your precious face for the last time
You were right there
You would always be mine
Love poem: Forever holds onto me (continued)
I was holding onto you
There was nothing they could do
I said keep trying, keep moving
I was so not done being with you
Every time
You looked at me
Is laid like concrete in my memory
There was nothing they could do
And I said, well, keep trying
There is no fucking way the love of my life is dying
I cry in the shower
Feel like screaming at grocery stores
Because you aren’t, in my bed, of course
I’m happy
It happened
So fast
Otherwise
I don’t think
I would last
And you and I both knew, I couldn’t die before you
Love poem: Forever holds onto me (continued)
I was holding on
With my bare arms
Holding you like a baby
Comforting you like a blanket
There was nothing more they could do
They promised and I believe them
You and I both know, I could not have died before you
Now, it’s nearing May
Dear God, what am I to do
This time last year,
I still had you.
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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