– a broken home be two bodies apart
writings
Tagged fever
12.12.2025 1/2
– she said “i’m moving“
10.23.2025
– a body as a home
10.08.2025
– a house as a prison
12.07.2024
bison gallop your dreams –their scent in this city room and heartbeat still galloping as you wake; i am here, i am here, i am
11.29.2024
oceans say i still write to you and words are a blue halo of joy and desire spilling up the spine. say it breathes as you. say i drowned because you left for the time it takes gold to melt back into earth of our origins lost or stolen ores mined thin. say we entered that earth breathing liquid arising at dawn. full we never got lost or broken and the only vow we kept was what our eyes reflected. say the sky was water and we swam say all this is true and be like recurrent oceans
08.30.2024 1/2
–what is a friend? ant is a friend, as you squeeze your friend unintended, he will bite youmake you swell up for days, make you not be able to lay on that side of your bodyand the other side is troubled from what might be danger. growing, brewing in there. painted in blood, you inherited
07.17.2024 1/2
summer lighting: these lightningscoming down at odd hourssome in fading night sky’s shimmer looks like living crystalsfalling throughthe morning’s milliseconds –as future lovers stealing glimpsesto orientate themselves beforethe impact as if anyone or any object or intervention or plea could change their flaming course
07.01.2024
–this is the darkest veil
06.20.2024
amoeba: you are a strange amoeba. as amoeba, there is no scale, no difference in large or small to you. you see things you forget as fast as they appear though you try to hold on to their images. you see nuclear blasts repeatedly; you see nuclear blasts repeatedly; you see creosote, your favourite chihuahua plant being. you see the tiny fur like hairs on its seed pods, they open in blinding sunlight. they open in radiant light, then grandma’s voice is descending on you as fall out saying; keep trying, persist, persist