It's as if you cracked my skull open Peeked inside while I was sleeping And I'm thinking, what business do you have? … And I wish I could unsee your kindness Every upward turn of your mouth But I cannot so I'll bury it in sound In grace, in erasing myself … I would live in the deepest cave And draw upon the walls Ignore the sticks and stones To ignite some kind of fire … And God, will they love me if I am honest? I would starve until every bone would show Just to feel a little lighter And still avoid the truth … You carved your name in me And I wish I never knew you
Dec 17, 2024

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just found this track on spotify and i think it's just beautiful, speaks about extending yourself to someone and letting fear just be, not letting it control you but not suppressing it either. it really speaks to my life right now, trying to be genuine for someone without overwhelming myself. -- Your fingers laced in mine like five tourniquets, stopping empty words that flow from my empty nervous lips, your fingers like tourniquets. I'm enjoying the silence like this, i can hear the sound of your lips as you read me Robert Frost. And silence cross fades into a bliss that has stuck with me this week, the sound of Frost on your Lips, "Not Even The Rain" you say as you read me E.E. Cummings. I read Kevin Fitzpatrick yesterday, he talked about reading poems to his partner Tina, she was moving to a farm in Northern Minnesota. A tourniquet is that look that you give when you're right where you're supposed to be, and i know there's so many places to be. And i've never met someone who is at so many at once, even sometimes gracefully, even sometimes gracefully. Gracefully, you tell me about New York, gonna see Bruce Springsteen on broadway, i kiss you in some Portland driveway, you say sorry for being so many places at once, you wanna feel grounded with me, I say i don't wanna be your rock i want to be your sea legs If you move on will you at least give me a five star yelp review so i can be friends with your friends, my collar for your tears, my sleeve for your snot, a bout of crying as you tell me about fear of loss and giving which leads to loss which leads to fear making it hard to give your fingers laced in mine like five tourniquets, stopping words that we'd forget, i won't forget that look that you give, tie it above the wounds, i've had a rough month or two, you're like my sea legs. making out in some Portland Strangers driveway, gettin dizzy as we stumble the long way to my house, the feeling of motion as we lay still in my bed and you read me Frost and Cummings and Elliot, the feeling of motion as i lay still and you show me: how to put a moment on a page, i hang some pictures up at my new place you light the sage, your spirits lift the room higher and higher i let some dire feelings of loosing you burn with the sage i put you on pages and pages of moments and moments I got nothing to hide, you tell me about your friend Joseph who see's through peoples lies. Sometimes you hid behind your eyes making it much more potent when i see right through them, and i see right through them I let fear of you moving on burn with the sage, i put silent moments of your tourniquet fingers on the page, and i listen to your breathing and the sounds of kids playing at the school across the street as we lay through the afternoon. My collar for your tears my sleeve for your snot, some happy crying as we leave behind fear of loss, only giving, which led me here, in your arms, without fail, over moments and moments, and pages, and again only moments which lead me here in your
Dec 25, 2024
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I am rotting. I am haunted by an echoing pulse of once verdant requiems, morbidly veiling my vision with whispering fungal blooms. They chatter and chit, until withering into skeletal thorns that sink beneath my skin and burrow into my cadaverous tissue. I am overgrown with lingering epitaphs, as if they were carved into me, the memory of those I loved secluded in my vessel of a body, nestled between my tendons and sinew, Nervebound. There is a rift between the seraphic nature of the dead and beloved, and the morbid and discordant kiss of death that blesses me even in life. Though I yearn in my anguished turmoil to either blossom or wilt for a final time, the will for my fractured heart to return it's abyssal pieces from the void is a pointless, forsaken task. For all my decomposing pieces have been exiled into the earth, distant and estranged from the Sun. I will soon be bound by roots, and I only hope my sap will be bountiful. A solitary tree, hollowed by silence and a chambered wildfire. My bark shall ossify into marrow and cartilage, and a volatile mix of dendral viscera, wood and resin and pine. I am fated to decay,  until I embrace the sky,  resurging into a cathartic rebirth. My crimson liquor within my veins will become liquid amber, feeding you with sweetness and the phantom flavor of my flesh.
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I sent it via pantomime While you were watching someone else I stared at you and cut myself It’s all I’ll do cause I’m not free A fugitive to dull to flee Im amorous but out of reach A still life drawing of a peach I’m a tulip in a cup I stand no chance of growing up I’ve made my peace, I’m dead I’m done I watch you live to have my fun.
May 26, 2024

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I’m not a parent and do not plan to be. Kids can wear me out fast with their high energy and noise level; it leaves me very over-stimulated. But it’s pretty extreme when people say they ”hate kids” and I often feel it’s a reflection of their childhood and beliefs around how kids “should be.” That they were expected to be quiet, obedient, and out of the way by their parents when they were little. It’s fucking hard to be a kid. You’re dealing with a rapidly-changing body and underdeveloped brain, managed by flawed adults who are enforcing boundaries that you do not understand. It’s confusing and hard to manage your feelings and honestly just a lot. People are impatient with kids when they‘re brand new to the world and figuring it all out, and this is a time kids need a friend the most. Children can also be teachers to adults with how they are less habituated to the world. They teach us how to be free and open-hearted and silly and imaginative. A good practice is to be kinder and gentler with kids. If that feels difficult, start with gentleness toward your inner child. Maybe that’s the child in your life that needs your attention and kindness most.
Apr 16, 2025
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They keep you grounded and sometimes they keep you caffeinated, too.
May 6, 2025
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I meant to post this yesterday. Absolutely beautiful morning for walk. This morning is also beautiful but in a spring rain kind of way.
Mar 23, 2025