i dip my feet in the swimming pool. it is cold but the running lights in the reflection glow like bonfire. all night i have been sucking on this last cherry pit. slowly, suddenly, it slides and lodges itself in my throat… now my veins are thick with blue; face the whiter shade of pale. The very thought of u

buzzed

everything this morning is fusing into a cloud of nice things. mama ended the night with a story about grandpa, and in between the drag i took between the last half-sentence and now, the sky has gone from dusk-blue to dawn-dawn. spotify is (at my bidding) singing tunes from my 14 and all the nice things come to mind; the birthday i’d been gifted five tall cans of Pringles, the time mama rang the police on a cloudy day up eleven storeys high because i was wailing, the clever trick she used to play where snickers bars would magically appear in the middle section of the refrigerator if u would just shut your eyes and count to 8. the time grandma fetched me to the highly competitive sandwich making competition and i’d convinced her that copious amounts of mini m&ms belonged in there with lettuce and tomatos to which she had lovingly said ‘yes’. an unrequited crush i don’t regret, the stubborn lingering smell of excessively sanitised dying people in the hospice too close to the light and too close to my heart. u can wish those things into a cloud and they fall like soft rain (very lovely)

the world spins madly on. yet in the pertinent words of the Goo Goo Dolls: i’ll become what u became to me

soft jelly in a brine

i haven’t been honest in a while; my body takes me to convenient places, my body tries to forget. i’ve feigned amnesia when passing through places i’ve been many times before. i blast songs like they’re melodies when they are affectively memories. the brutality of being honest shakes my tiny heart, and it is more than i can take. i will wake in the morning with the same old disease like it’s ever been before and thus will my tiny body ever try to forget

8:46AM

it has been two days since i’ve come home. after a stubborn bout of laundry, i clumsily knock over 3 trays of crayons (to which mama responds in her sleep and assaults me with an indistinct sound spelling annoyance, and it would take rearing too ugly a head for me to say: I forgive u, mama.. but i do. u likely did not mean to, as with all the other things u did not mean to do. watching ur sleeping body now, i have a lot of love for u), and properly pieced them back together in the unforgiving dim of daybreak

I can now sleep

These are the pieces of my youth, The small secrets and not-so-great expectations that defined my coming of age

Two paths diverged in a wood and you can laugh at mine but i am going to sleep on yours. You laugh like a flower, teeth like teacups, eyes like –– ––, pure as the middle of a cucumber. I leave out every thing that actually happened and has been said. Two handfuls of soil joined by a mighty spit! Please laugh at mine but i am going to sleep on yours.