I so desperately need a crying space free wife
to unleash the emotions rather than end on lightning wings
in a public façade where everyone sees bird teeth
something is wrong narrow star
nothing is wrong amber tongue
don’t you see
I am polished fear
making space for nightmare champagne
emotions of the trills from distant hills
turning toward grey sky
Wherever you are dawn bright
whenever you come back vermillion moon
handwriting like eyelashes
I need to make space for you
when you do
and to do that
I so desperately need to cry.
Unleash scissor threads
down my face
near my eyes
that if I cry
I can smile
and I can make space for you
(Always look someone in the eye. You never know who’s trapped in there.)
Where does your creative space go?
Mine seems to disappear sometimes.
Not sure where.
gone for a long time
why hello there
Hold the line
I must hold strong.
Like a warped Venn diagram.
The outer circles smile and make nice.
The overlapping intersection is a mess.
I have to write it down
because if I don’t write it down
the thoughts cylindrically go around and around in my head
and if there is no where for them to go
it turns into insanity.
But if I can catch one
and force it into this crude tool
them I am no longer insane,
I am a writer.
Two socks, neither are mine.
Your fridge approached me the other day. It was an unwelcome advance.
You conduct an abnormal amount of static electricity. I am quite tired of your electrical current.
Where did you put the key to that memory?
Fuck you brain for phantom pain!
I see that you have failed to follow instructions.
Looking for another state of consciousness again huh? Spin around and think about the taste of purple!
The fridge says hello!
Please do not buy any more journals. You are just provoking her.
You are my legacy.
You are my false god.