Jibberish

Nestled between
The paternal lamppost, the maternal road
Time is smaller than you think
We were locked in each other's attics,
Raised in straight lines
(Loving is going back in time.)
That being said;
Burn up the girl who lives in your head and looks like me
We are not affiliated.

Creed (III)

Ruby on rails and carefully engineered beats,

I really do feel like royalty,

Surveying my dreamscape, trapped between my imagination and my eyes

trapped backstage. glittering soupy shadow mouth of yellow teeth lightbulbs grinning at sticky white tiles. framing the echoless hall.

Sticky webs encasing warm car interiors, dad wearing his coat and mom’s coffee taking reality for granted in the cupholder

Snow covered barns squinting, the first step out of the movie theater

How do you know that life goes on?

My life is bigger than me and is made of everyone else. My life is everything but me.

I work out but I don’t get any stronger.

I can fit into the world, into the street, into the café, into the rooms.

I can’t fit into myself. But I want to live at home wherever I go. I want to find Christmas morning in my thoughts. I want all my experiences to be sensations. I want to experience my entire life at the same time. I am already doing this.

I am the queen of this mountain of trash,

O self forgive me

O self I fear thee

O self be not silent to me turn not away thy face

O self I enter thee, a house with rumpled sheets and dishes in the sink and in the winter footprints on the porch

This is a love without romance, without delusion

I’ll follow you home,

Simply because I always am.

I’m looking for a nice person in the crowd in my head

Populated by faceless revolutionaries, they think everything is wrong and needs to be changed, they are not quite fighting for food or drink. Taste, I think.

The victim is curled up in a corner every dream search takes me up stairs that lead endlessly back down to the entryway, the hallways are infinite loops, I open doors and enter them as though from the other side. Where am I? Where are they? The small part of me that has the strength and form to navigate the home lives in constant fear and worries for the rest of me and hopes I don’t encounter any of them and hopes they don’t find her. They eternally destruct and rebuild.

I want normalcy, plates, a shelf, a jar of honey.

I want to taste.

Where's Everything

I've never felt so empty

And so full of memory

What did I lose by improving

What did I give up for better taste

How did you uproot my sunrise cartoons

How did you sour my art

Authenticity? I never had it

I had soul

Quivering behind a translucent face

I felt good

Rolling over rolling over rolling over into the next

Up before dawn

What's my location

I can't find my tether

I've drifted into space, out to sea, whatever

Swallowing each day whole from a bottomless empty cup

The illusion of a God, the illusion of a me

Dad cut off the lowest seven branches of the tree

A gap in the continuum; a goodbye

Returning feels like leaving again

You feel me