Tag: writing
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Loose
I’m loosing the notion that love has to be grandiose.That it moves in broad gestures and flitting grinsand the sweeping magic of surprises.I’m unclenching my fists from the hem of hope’s skirts,letting myself slide back down toward earth,stopping my saddling of clouds andthe promise I might find hidden in a breathcaught. I’m unraveling the apron…
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Panic
Everything will work out in the end. It’s just—what if it doesn’t work out anything like how I imagined it would?
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Self-Worth
I wish I could feel self-worth. I feel valueless. I feel like a disconnected cloud of pieces and parts that are here to be taken and used. I can’t quite connect to the notion that someone may genuinely, really love me, without ulterior motive or aim. But then I feel it and I have to…
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Internalized
I internalize everything. Every ounce of the stress and anxiety around me goes straight to my soul. I take every reaction and every offhanded mention as truth. I pull every ounce of upset around me up on my shoulders and I bear it. I assume that it’s all my fault, anyway. I deserve punishment. When…
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Apart
The marks you left are already fading, faint yellow traces of our clutching and writhing. As I step into the shower, the scent of you washes down my face and I inhale the very last bit of you before it can be replaced with distance. I smile as I discover little hairs and crumbles of…
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2007: Tripping
Red lights snaking, sashaying in a curious sort of S-shape along the parched black pavement, everything ahead looked like glowing embers on the asphalt’s dying fires. The sky was a rainbow of dusk, from reds to oranges and greens and the bluest of blues overhead, peppered with stars. The sun was in its last…
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Fever
My head feels like I’ve been skullfucked, and all I want is human warmth.Here, in limbo, I wait, with no shelter from feral lies and glowering.There is just the sound of my own breathing, ragged, wracked with chills,in terrible harmony with the sound that drifts through the papery walls.I’m dressed in a cold that I…
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2007: Whiplash
I write about sex as if it’s something beautiful, but it’s not. It’s two bodies smashing together, doused in sweat and unmet expectations. There is nothing beautiful about lying under someone who is rocking back and forth to some foreign beat as you dig and claw into their flesh to try to bring them back…
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2007: Get On Down the Tracks
I hear the train rushing through this podunk town, and you immediately go rushing through my mind. I remember dirty sex and the smell of campfires. I remember how warm January felt as I pressed desperately into your embrace, your fingertips tracing words along my spine and your lips pushing lies across my skin. We…
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A Few Key Revelations
I love nights that never stray far from seventy degrees. I love the way that moonlight looks splashed across calm faces. I love the rain, even when it’s an ugly day. I love cemetaries and all the strange reverence we leave there. I love mocking people whose feelings I will never see hurt. I love…
Dootsie Bug 