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i'm still a myth, but have these.

devil's advocatefeasting on an angel’s carcass i thought i tasted moonbeans & sunlight mixing as one forgive me, my son i forgot my touch was enough to shape the water’s callmocking the mother as she cries pushing life into the world i spurn life, i hate love, it burnsand the angels come to me the eyes of children shaped into swords i’ve seen eons, but i still haven’t got the wordsit tastes sweet, like spoonfuls of honey mixing with the silver saccharine syrup of a siren’s laughtersuccle now, my sweet, have your life’s blood flowing free from the wrists of the mother moon, and all her many lovers i forgot to hear their names you come from many mothers but...

yardclear memoirmy reasons wither in love and thick trees, wind waking wasps to flight;I fight another fancy dream about a girl I knewclimbing up to nest in paper honey catacombs,she smelled like summer bees and blank verse and our worst conversations covered contemplations of the way we often wander through our lives like living longer isn't even worth the weight of carrying our bodies back to shore,and I'm sureone day she drowned in a flat tomorrow sunrise sneaking through clouded morning mist,but maybe I should have stayed or told her how her neckbones made a perfect v or how all I could think about was lingering past midnight in the patio moon, cast...
symmetric huntgrowing web of orbits threaten, orders left behind for no man. sharp as intellect the lines construct, constrict, and damn.kiss the plan goodbye, stalk and grant expiry with abandon. not a movement random, but precise.treasured heart, beckon the knife. i. on tidal waves and woundsi forgot how to swim.last year, when i ran across the shore, stuck my toes in the water, the foam,touch cold and found woosh, whoosh, shhh, it's okay, but the hem of my dress, blue with white polka-dots, gets wet, becomes dark.so i try something different, sink down, my dress inking out around me and i become a mermaid.(that did not actually happen.)i trip, fall into the drop, torn wide open to the ocean. cry out only wheni taste salt.

malestrombull in a china shop, i am obsessed with the word obsessed.walking down the isle, isolated in pillars my voice is a box made of river water.quiver loudly, the cotton of my shirt clings to the fat of my tummy and i am very much painfully aware of these heavy cells.cellulite i(o)n a mobile phone, the light of cells is both a blinding shock.and shining lock. glimmer the u-shaped at the top of a coffer, these sails sure a caulk ring in that box i was talking about earlier.male storm full of homophones, this maelstrom is off-kilter when princes are chief in cheap particles.
once upon a dreama dark warm-lit room: the stillness of breathing each other’s air he held her tight and my heart ached, a fragment of reality flitting by as i rememberyour hair tickling my neck and laughing apologies, i go back to soaking in this made-up memory tender palms stroked her back like yours did mine, a long time ago, murmured ideas of affection seep through the cracks of closed doors, and i started to melt with her - i woke up to open windows and bitter winter air, nostalgia rising like bile in my throat, and crying as if he had been mine inevitably and just when did you think I disappeared? the radio was tuned low, not off the sounds were gentle, listen softly the waves of innovation rise in the pool of humanity and I have touched the tip barely; but blessed be that journey I took for I learned many a thing in that moon cycle and I look to the horizon as I mold it to my liking the crisp scent of change is on the wind, and it excites me to see what it will hold - just what will it become? ...
UnspecifiedI still see her, the ghostly vision of what once was the figure that shaped a universe for me.Dark hair and eyes a subtle shade of sunet stare out at me from corners of memory that refuse to subside.Whispering words to empty spaces, wondering if stars can transmit the signal from my lips to her skin, if she still recalls the sound of my voice.Endless questions hang unanswered, the chaos of a heart unsure of where it longs to beat, and I exist only in a blackened space she chooses not to see.Somewhere between the cynic and the dreamer, I swing from dark to light trying to decipher why a love alleged to be so strong could be abandoned so eas...

did i have the guts?it's not glamorous eating every meal from a vending machine, barely hanging on between doses and barely being able to pry my mouth open because i'm shaking and i'm heaving and i'm constricting but i'm fine. Looking into the Bell JarThis lid is screwed on, I’m stuck in my head, but I can’t touch its contents or locate where tears activate. Words float in my body, imprisoned in the pages between brick exterior and wallpapered room.Outside, trying to look into the room, yet also inside, looking through, stuck between stomach and mouth, between pen and paper. Losing my sense of touch to become an angel as I plant my body in the snow. A bottled river of blue tears,stale, drips mechanically onto paper, tears become clipped roses that sit in a room: I detach something ugly from my body and turn it into beauty that can be stuck in a jar, contained in a place I can’t touch or...
2018 2 8 2307 (NaHa 7)aged eyes heavenward a quiet resignation he whispers goodbye twenty (lockout)and after the lockout i found myself twenty dollars richer, at the expense of a night in a stranger’s roomhe’d kissed me before, i just stopped caring, honestly — so when he asked on my birthday can we make out i said sure idc anymore so strange, it’s on the twentieth, just like mine, but he’s much older and it’s only seven days before the boy’si wonder what he’s doing, nowadays — heard he spent a few days out of the country, and had funi hope so because all i’ve found is indifference and lockouts
maybe the light is not benevolentroomblood drifts a thunder of smoketipped flickers and absent-minded notes (hickory, california oak) left over from the dayand i dream in meta, pulse myself to the dry drums and wet humming of a heartbeatstranger in a cage stirringpale green into light; she draws back the lining of the worlda curtain of sorrow, a curtain of flood waters and raging fire, figurative and literaltomorrow is untouched, indented but there are truths in the ways we fractureand how can it be anything but painfulwhen we are so repulsive? the wizardeffortless skeumorph of a smooth-slick interface is a chronicle of facades the farce in a smile with too many teeth to manage the chew of unrendered fat -- manufactured to swallow the reality of how one eats when no one is around so real the blind man can read every insecurity in a voice heaving and mountainous as braille.you will push the hands away as if they mean to strangle not to understand and they will withdraw curling in as paper edges in a fire -- your resistance to unravel so aflame; the anger roars forth from a mouth open, pink warm and unremoved -- the truth beyond perception is you absolute.

give me more lovelies to love?