Ice Queen

Originally written: October 21st, 2019

Media made man is merch, 
but all the cons are during school, 
so forget the physical and stick to the visual; 
stick to the audio, the most important 
sense for your sanity. 

You can try to explain it all but it never makes sense. 
You don’t allow it to. 


I dunno. 

How come? 

No idea. 

One day a steel door simply wedged itself somewhere 
between your heart and your mouth, opening only 
when the flooding pressure of tears and love and guilt 
and peace become too much. You count its openings 
by the depth of the dust. 

Everything’s always obtuse isn’t it? 
Be straightforward for once—it’s not that hard to say 
“this means a lot to me; I am not cold;  
I am rich on the inside,” 
now is it? 

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Originally written: May 31st, 2019

Hopeful melancholy comes lying down,
as the sun traces your body, bare
for no one but yourself to see.

Light a loving touch on your arm
filtered through upturned blinds,
kissing the blanket’s softness, switching
sides as lazily as the moment’s tempo allows.

What a day it’d be to hold a love like this—
to breathe each other and be as the orange sun fades.
To feel skin against skin and trace patterns
of nothing, meaning everything.

Standing Still in a Moving Sea

Originally written: April 5th, 2019

There’s nothing that will come out so I give up on trying.
Sometimes walking clears the brain but squats hurt the leg
and so today I limp.

Spring showers bring May flowers even though I showered today
and would rather not get wet, but in the end what does it matter
I’ll be inside again soon. Pass familiar faces, unfamiliar names.
Rabbits reproduce at a fast rate so I wonder how long
until they take over the building. We should get a rabbit,
I’d remember its name.

It’s not that I don’t care simply that caring is tiring and sleep
sleep even more so.

Music to inspire but that’s a fickle thing, repetitive even after a hundred tries.
I could limp up and down the stairs again. I could acknowledge the faces
who sit in the lobby and know me and I them, even if only casually.
There’s power in a name—just say it.

It’s pouring now and the pink and white fawn looks away from me,
feigning ignorance as One New Message
hovers above its head. I unlock. Hit mute as though the world
will follow and all that will remain are the sounds of what I want:

I wish we had a pool, but at least in this way I can drown comfortably.

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A Test Before Hannon

Originally written: January 27th, 2019

I’ve gone to church, but I am not religious. Yet religion was with me when, 

as a familiar sermon filled my ears—clapped, in time with my steps 

I turned a corner on my way to first day at night and met the 

deer’s eyes. The priest’s voice died down, his warning 

true. Its presence stood on the stairs somewhere 

and I knew my worth, so I took my leave. 

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Be Honest With Me

Originally written: January 12th, 2019

Take aback, zigzag your calibration until the epitaph appears. 
Baby bruises with jobs gritty and horned, 
while a vagabond suffocates—again. 
Say, Kris Jenner, 
is this Lo-Fi? 

Aesthetic loveless and parting; a benediction for the Dada empire. 
Desire defiler unpoison us, 
so the turkey vulture may poach no mouthfuls of olives. 
Say, George Washington, 
Christian backhander, 
is midheaven unfulfilling? Fuck. 

An overrent reality shutdown—sold to none but the urinal. 
I saw that floater, heard the goldfish kick itself. 
You spot Chuck, Lily, Marx, and me, facing the waiting wolf. 
Say, turgid Republican, 
is astrophysical theory gripping? 

Sunny rain content makes moist bagels: meth, for the moth, 
Coke, for the hawk, Pepsi, for the doll. 
None pay, alone in rocky spots. 
Say, One Direction, 
is it unhealthy, pink panty ratings? 

Quenchless naps inc. operationalize Laotian murder spells. 
The lion represents taxes (illegally) online, 
paid in ratings and Döner and Katsu prong. 
Say, Pierre, is the fountain of dimness 
found in a prison page? 

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