ImmuneI do not pretendthe earth loves me.Darwin breathes down my neck.The ocean breathes down my bones.I am a flute hollowedby spittle and rain. And I am notspecial, nor alone.I had an ear infection when I was newborn. Twohundred years ago I would have died from it. Iwould have been cut short -small and screaming.Every time I step outside at night, the trees tell me:you’re not safe. A thousand antibioticscan’t make you safe.I’m not frightened.I would lie myself down and wait for the tide.I would do it any day.
to everything there is a seasonI.as a flower or a man,i shall burst,and scatter.as a corpse, i shallpeel away, andreturn to the earth,the air. i'll be inyour lungs yet.II.look, it’s not that i’m nota little bit charmedby the concentric circlesof existence, and the love,the bitter, bright andstinkinglove.it’s not that i don’t likecarrying this body that is a miracle,a miracle in the sum of its parts.kahlo got it, she knew whatshe was talking about –but i won’t put wordsin a dead woman’s mouth.and the hot sweat of it here,the pain, the fuck and the sour wineof it here,it isn’t really chaining medown. i’m thinking offloating away.III.did i ever tell youi’d like to die on my back,looking at the sky?in one of those faraway placesi saw from the car as a child, the top of a hillseen from a distance; someone else’s farm,someone else’s land. someone else’s emptiness,a thin line of grass betweendirt and the inf
Keep your powder dryi.he looks away, the lines underand around his mudded eyes asknown to me as my own,as known to me as the hot airof the death months, the death December,the blowfly fester, the light stretchedand bright to breaking;as known to meas the eucalyptus leavesthat are slicks of fragrant summerin every January of every year I haveever lived –as known to me as the smell of mysister’s cigarette,floating ’cross the ruined citiesof Christmas lunch –ii.i am six. he puts the air rifleagainst my shoulder, and tells me topull the trigger tight.iii.i’ll try, dad,i’m trying.
2Pared down to my bonesand a nervous system, thetangled tree within.
1Summer dulls me.In winter, I am sharp, aknife plunged into snow.
The Purple and the SunSpill your blood on the seven swords –as darkness comes, they are shoutingyour name:Artos, Artos, Artos.You are not just a man. I’ll say it again,even as you sweat and grunt, shag-headed,terrible and real. You are not just a man. Let yourheavy head fall, and becomethe bones of the hillsand the birdsof the sky.Let them claim you for their own,Emperor, o Emperor,even as the smoke tastes bitteron your tongue. The Sun is setting,and the thing is done. Die, and live forever,with what you’re given.A crown of oak leaves,and a lake,for your resting place.
arachne is calling my words are like spidersthey squirm out uncontrollablyi shut my hands over my mouth, buti can't keep all this darkness inside, darling.you left.you leftand you want me to be okayyou can't talk to me when i'm not okayyou never could handle me at my worst--but this isn't my worst, darlingnot even close.part of me wants to yell at you and say:you were the oneyou were the one who gave up on uson meyou were the one who made me feel likei wasn't good enoughand i wasn't.i'm not good enough to keep you. my words are like spidersthey squirm out uncontrollablyi shut my hands over my mouth, andi am bitten and beaten and brokenbut i can't risk youtaking any more of their venom.so i'll suffer in silenceand see how well i can bandage myself when you get betterhopefully you're the antidoteto these spider-made woundsand if not, wellperhaps i can spin their webs into a nettie it across my lipsand trap them inside.darling, i w
ushe was the curly-haired church boy whowas too afraid to be himself andalways cared too much of what other people thoughthe hurt people who hurt him(and who didn't)he knew better, but he didn't carenot until it was too late.i was the blonde-to-red shy firecracker whowas herself no matter what anddidn't care enough about what other people thoughti never tried to hurt anyone(but i did)i didn't know any better, and i cared way too mucheven when it was too late.
us (discontinued) i.i'm not one of those girls who fall apartbecause some stupid boy left them.i'm not one of those girlswho fall apartbecause some stupid boy left them.i'm notone of those girlswho fall apartbecause some stupid boyleft them.i'mnoti'mnoti'mnot--but he wasn't stupidhe was beautiful and made mistakesand i wasn't one of those mistakes.it's okay.just because you're b r ok endoesn't mean you can'tpull--yourselftogetheragain.
i take your words to heart, loverbrushing my hairin brusque strokesand blushing,you make my makeupmess and my made-upexcuses broken.i tinker with my wordsand tingle when you love them,soft tone in quiet blanketstangled and open.lover, you over alli am, hovering. slowly,let us be wondered bythe wonderful.
Faded MemoryI’m trying to geta picture of youinside my mind.But it’s likeI’m seeing youthrough eyes,that are going blind.I can’t quitemake out your image,it seems timehas done some damage.For your eyesno longer seem kind,and your smilehas lost some shine.All your edgesthat were once so fine,seem slightly blurredand out of line.And the armsthat once offered mesalvation,are crossed incondemnation.No longer is there loveinside your stare.It’s been replacedwith an unrelenting glare.These fading memories,have turned colder.And now send icy shiversdown my shoulders.Cuz the fireworkthat we used to behas run out of steam,and is nothingbut a faded dreambeing wiped from memory.
divination by entrails (or lack thereof)and in this dayi am his prescriptionand in this wayi never existed before.i pushed the floorboards downand hid my heart deftlyonly to find thatas promisedhe left me writhing.i'm a sightingof unholy ligamentsconspiring to take a pure thingand bury it.sacred groundsin his coffee cupalmost offset my horrid luckand flip my tarots.what should i wear, oh love,when your insides seemy inside is bare?
jump into the fogI'm feeling lucky so take my hand.Let's be slammed against the ground by the musicand the nervous beating of our teenage hearts.