Rec | NIGHT THINKING

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I buried- in silence -in the back yard -a thing in the night -deer trodding behind the tree line airplane light rolling down the cheek of the dome- it had to be done alone no matter how many times you asked what was growing here I couldn’t speak its name- and you couldn’t hold the reigns of a certainty that is not yours to keep -here is my mind, the living, the executor, the backdoor frightened child staring off wandering for the holder -here is the order of the sphinx, the cataloged diagnosis of the ordinary wheel -here is the lackadaisical assistances that you ordered: “bury the hatchet that dug the hole. take the sword of your desires and throw it at the heap. there is a lump forming that must be seared. the stitches to be unraveled are trying to leach into the skin from which they are formed. you must open the earth or be dissolved yourself”

@turnerpgreens

Feb 25, 2025

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A MOMENT IN THE WOODS THE OTHER DAY

a couple months ago I'm out behind the gabled house with dregs of home still seeping through its edges, a sharp sort of newness ripping the seams of who I am & who I was, sweaty fingers slipping from between each other with the bloodied grasp of desperation - it is a spring day, and I am here again. the leaves are new and the blinking infant furled in the strands of my chest takes a breath and every time I trudge through these vine-ridden woods I feel her grubby hands trace the creases in my ribcage. there are ghosts here, the soulmate-friend across the ocean and I and the way we'd take axes to the already-fallen trees like our anger was spraying away with the bark and we were left with only breeze. there are the phantoms of our hands stuck in the mud, ripped leaves beneath our fingernails as we unclogged the flow of the creek and watched the water dig its trenches deeper, and now i'm watching it capture the light of a new year in my hometown alone. through the leaves and over the tinny chorus of water-on-rock I hear the echoes of a mother calling to her children in a game of hide-and-seek, her children laughing, the clamor of it like a memory captured on tape and played back. there is a hole here, radio waves rippling through years folded back and punched through, I a bystander to the reminiscence of a stranger years down the line when some part of that laughter will be lost. it is here. it is here now, in the backyard of a house I sometimes call home.

@rain-soup

May 5, 2025

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Reticular, vermicular

Tightly drawn smiles Loosely fitted Scrubbing the drain, circling it even Settling dust Yearning for movement A force of nature An action plan, a family man Laying down foundations For impersonations Renting down the river, Winding up a creek With two fists Opening my favourite window And forgetting to close it I'm letting the debris in And if bin lorries could tell stories They'd sleep in an unmade bed every night Wednesday morning, mother's warning The man walks his dog Through oppressive heats and violent winds Why can't you do the same? Stop seeking answers And seek a home Stay there, stay away The pegging to clothesline pipeline Against brick walls My balls bounce and fall A pinch and a tuck never hurt much But where do I lay my head at night? How many mistakes Should I contemplate Were the force of nature Blowing out my last birthday candle With a giggle A tightly drawn wiggle A master of mimicry But I know you, I see you Your silk cocoon Never strung for permanence Your writhing In step-by-step conniving will End when you wake To find yourself decaying Stuffed in your rotten beanpod Full of somebody else's shit You never open the window, you see

@flemlord

Jun 23, 2025

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not sure what this is saying and i wrote it

i toss and i turn with the pillow staying put, welcoming a new wave of anxiety with each movement 2:18 on the clock and the fan adds more momentum to my unattainable thoughts buried in the need to see, and learn the unknown yet, i lay on the surface as a parched rock in the middle of my favorite beach, reeking of the current simplicities of life though its surely a blessing in disguise which i might recall five years from now standing by, holding onto my innocence, waiting to believe in a miracle or see a comet pass by in the dark night sky