Naked Poetry with Adèle Elysée: Recent Episodes
Adèle Genèvieve Elysée
Poetic ASMR by Adèle Elysée. Designed to hypnotize. Ready? Let’s Go!! Support this podcast: https://anchor.fm/nakedpoetry/support
<3
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-A
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<3
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and love
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Original music from the week
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I didn’t lose it until I left…
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Love or love?
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Letter 14
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Confessional from my upcoming book
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Free-falling In the purity of sound
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Reporting to you alive with love, all love.
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Courtesy of Danger Notes
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You’re an epiphany waiting to happen.
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3 episodes on a gorgeous Saturday.
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My Soul has Four Windows. I only know this because...
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Elegantly, I've prayed
Elegantly, I've p r e y e d...
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One of my favorites, forever.
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"Mama said there'd be days like this/there'd be days like this/there'd be
days"
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One of my favorite stories ever told. Beauty in all forms.
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Eyes like Science//
I will let you pull me into an elucidative state while you try and resurrect my reticent heartbeat I had so much fun reestablishing love without the boundaries
With love all love,
Adele Elysée
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You won't need charcoal to draw me back, Gemini
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Journaled thoughts after a run
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Herein lies my idea of a good morning
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On art and its particulars
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Ü
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If you asked me why I ran so much, this is it. This is my answer.
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“Love is a skill you learn.” Do you agree? Leave me a message
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Sometimes it just helps to write it down.
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Because life has to make sense...9
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If you need me...
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5:45AM
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Truth and lies
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Blues
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Lessons in human decency
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Day 20 of isolation
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Day 19 of isolation
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Day 18 of isolation
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Day 17 of isolation
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Day 16 of isolation
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Day 15 of isolation
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Day 14 of isolation
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Day 13 of isolation
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Day 12 of isolation
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Day 11 of isolation. Every once in a while I think it’s good to write a letter to yourself.
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Day ten of isolation
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Day 9 isolation
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Day 8 of isolation
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Day 7 of isolation
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Day 6 of isolation
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Day 5 of isolation
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Day 4 of isolation
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Day 3 of isolation
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Day 2 of isolation
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Part of a series I’m doing based on pieces I’ve written each day of quarantine so far. I hope you’ll be able to find some peace in them—or even some questions you haven’t asked yourself yet that you’ve been meaning to. Thank you for listening and don’t forget to leave a voice message I’d love to hear your thoughts and I’ll get right back to you. Love.
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Exclamation points are younger than we think. Look! Watch, watch! I will prove it. They are younger than your rook your switch with white knights or your four noblest truths. Exclamation points are younger than youth--that’s the matter with you. Have you given yourself a hug today. A needle tease of oxytocin. Eye line full of confidence and brute grit and grace.
Have you saved your face? Told it thank you and begged it to stay around. Have you taken it for a spin around town or something similar. Your face is younger than an exclamation point and even younger than you think.
Have you ever thought to think? Yes, you would’ve had to in order to learn how to read. Now you’re a professional aura namer and you everyone knows it.
Everybody knows how you glow you e been the speak of our week for months. You’ve been the Youngblood on earth for ions
You know nothing as well as you know your own atoms and you know it matters how much you love these matters and you know it matters how much you love your matter and you know how much it matters to know how much you matter and you matter and you matter
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My signature resembles silence/ my hands victims of your hands/ leaving me alone/ We were half ideal like leaving fire and water in a room to watch them talk it out/ talk, talk, talk, talk it out
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A beautiful story that moved me when I heard it. I had to share it.
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💙
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just a little story--sewn together--piece by piece. touch by touch
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Blue IS oddly other worldly, isn't it? This poem is about self-sabotage mostly. Imagine with me-- the journey that gets you to stop it before it happens. I encourage you to figure out what your Angel says. How she saves you from time to time. Here's a hint: She's you! You have to be your own angel sometimes.
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Charmed. Completely was I Charmed...
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This is what happens when I listen to a hell-of-an Album
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When was the last time someone made you feel seen? Leave me a VM.
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This is called "Hint of Joy" with a song I wrote, produced/performed called, "Cold."
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Multi-layered, polyphasic and Pining and prying, poetic blunder hilariously binding--to him? I'm a super magnet. Always shining multiphase personality brought to tears by the sound of a skeptic but O, if you could HEAR the music wanted to tell her you have the diction of a Ballet dancer was brought to tears by the tips of toes even asleep, I'm so graciously aware of the sight of your smile-- the height of your interest! It was the INTENSITY of your intention... like when Melania Trump copied Michelle Obama's homework... wanted to scream O Melania, you can't plagiarize
Grace.
This is stream of consciousness -- freedom at its finest -- poetry at its most vulnerable -- singing at its smallest ping ponging with the unstoppable Heart.
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These are the best of the VM’s I have gotten. Sometimes it’s so nice to hear yourself from another person’s perspective. I have infinite gratitude for all my listeners but today I wanted to share these few. I had chills listening to some of them. Enjoy and leave a VM for me after you listen. You never know where it’ll land. Cant wait to reply.
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In this episode I highlight some of my favorite voicemails on my station that people have sent in that have brought me joy or made me smile. I’ll also includ my poem entitled, “Daddy” which I wrote for my father when I first got to California because I was missing him and seems to be allowing other people to miss their loved ones and remember and love and persist. Thanks for listening.
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"But why do you lean me here
Lord of my Life
Lean me at this table
in the middle of the night
wondering
how to be Beautiful."
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And you can imagine the ache...
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dear Delia,
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Never eyes shut.
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Tell your Cleopatra to keep it down.
Build her walls tall and act weak.
Cover everything but her mouth
and make her speak
make her breathe.
She carries your screams in her lungs.
She carries your breath in her fire tomb
there’s one flower left there’s one
flower left there’s one
leaf left it left a mark it left
a mark now she’s in love with you.
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What will upset me the most when I perish will not be the blinding white light. Or the horror filled awe-struck current that seals me. Or the heaviness of stone on top of me. Or the lack of breadth and breath in my bones. Or the amount of time it takes for my soul to circle all the way back. Or the direction they send me. Or the moments I will be forced to interact with again. Or the goodbye sonnets I will have to emit. Or my last heart twitch. No. It will be the thought of losing your Touching. Not ever being able to see your Glow. It will be the mist in my eyes. Your mist. Your crying eyes trying to find me. Only I won’t even know where I went. It will be the glimpses of me you see in our angels - The reflection of us in our true-blue Christmas lights. The time you ran over to kiss me good-nighttime. All of the ink ribbons I left behind…My typewritten letter to you. The way you will want to depart. But do not do this to me, beauty, love of all my lifetime. I implore you. I will meet you back where we began-- No need to worry--I have your fingerprint memorized in case I’m ever asked to sketch it. Or if I should get so lonely here I can build a part of you to hold onto.
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Ma’am, ma’am. I understand you’re having a bad day. Kicked full of scrabble she’d mount the wiser offer.
O, buzz off.
Ma’am--- ma’am, I just-- haven’t got the words today. Ma’am? Just take the daisies. I spent all afternoon dusting the petals. Ma’am?
You see, I, I, I, accidentally sold my lunch money. As a matter of fact-- I spent all afternoon dusting these petals. Ma’am? You see, these flowers come from a long line of fury, ma’am. I sure hope we can come to an understanding. Ma’am, ma’am, please don’t cry, your day will come true, don’t close your eyes so soon. Ma’am?
I picked these just for you. Don’t close your eyes too soon. Ma’am, my hands hurt. My skin dresses down like a sun-fueled moon, ma’am? I know what it feels like. I know what it feels like to watch a day break into pieces, and then have people stare at you like you broke it. But ma’am... you didn’t break it and you are not broken. Ma’am? Let’s gather the pieces together, alright? 1, 2, at the count of three. Fold into the pieces that you were. 1, 2, 3. Ma’am? Ma’am? Don’t close your eyes too soon. Don't close your eyes so soon.
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A song I wrote to match my mood perfectly
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I gave you eight matches, you used seven to abandon me.
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I see rings– love is coming. And I am running after love, come slowly. You are diamond. You are dream. You are a matchless utopia, no room for any silence. I know that I must speak. because You, my love, surpass beauty.
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Me? I would have given my Sun. My brightest cry.
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This is an episode where I explain why I would write this poem. And then I play the actual poem.
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Call ins of the day
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How do you spell God? One Summer, I tried.
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I tear at the structure of heartache. I tear at the hesitance of bees before they sting you. I tear at the hat on the wall. Mechanistic animals. Paint on lovely stones. Love thy love thy love thy song. The 24-hour song you are.
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Dear phoenix girl, If I’m the bomb… you are the row of flowers that bloom in the after. Unrecognizable beauty. You are the tenth cloud! The whole of the story, the sound a breath makes, the passion stuck to a page I bet your novels taste like visionaries who cross-bred with fate while holding their own heartbeats.
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Call me, I’m problematic. I love problems. I’m an addict for you .I’m an addict for the euphoric. I’m addicted to euphoria. We are God’s Perfect Mistake. We are Goddesses. Draw us in gold. We hold lightning in our hands and thunder in our knees. We are a certain kind of problem, officer. But we get most of it out by the shoreline in the morning. But it comes back come night time. Call be, babe, you’re the only one who knows.
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Listen. Cut the linguistic tropes already. If I hear one my cliche I’m gonna shave my head into twelve lines die ‘em with bleach and tide then I’m gonna make you view yourself from the sidelines til you forget you have a face. Listen. If I SEE one more Tesla X——I might have to buy one.
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When I unearthed her, her eyes were closed in a sacred blink. I dusted her lips with gold and whispered, "You are gorgeous in pieces." I saw every bone, her very own ivory keys. I whispered, "You are gorgeous in pieces." You are gorgeous in pieces. That was when I noticed. That was the ring. I thought I lost it in my oldest home after I gave birth to my Eldest son on the top were two lions jaws open wide I loved that ring. I loved that ring.
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And then I'd pop two balloons outside of your ears so that you could hear the sound I think every sentence should make. POP goes your windows.
Yesterday, you left me reckless with the words: "Make me in the kitchen and place your breathing on our bend." Had me begging for breath. All the way back to the time you called me your "Cleopatra”. The way you held my face and whispered "How... How are you possible?" The time of our love story. The time I had to leave. And then time left me to sink but I replied with a moment in mind. Then remember happened. And I choked on it. Saw myself in my deathbed knowing that I spent my life well—keeping my promise
of responding to beauty.
"Backwards you were spinning I placed flowers near your head," I replied.
Why yes!
Nothing but lilacs for my Laurels! Nothing but loraxes for my Laurel. O, and when the pen arrives I'll be sure to swallow it. I don't think I learned from my right year old mistake. Expect a rose-colored film graft-----
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Call me. I'm problematic. I love problems. I'm an addict. I'm an addict from you. I'm addicted to euphoria.
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We were half ideal like leaving fire and water in the same room to talk it out.
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Suspend me.
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Wake up and smell the morning thunder. Take what you wish from it. Existence. A mirror image. Your first quiet moment of the day...
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I just wanted to see red. It’s like you’re trying to stay out of heaven. Breaking out your own safe haven. Always Blue bird over red raven Always blues over truths. Always hurts always bleeds Depression it seems Depression runs thru Cuts thru Makes you Shapes you up Locks you down Keeps you interested Keeps you coming Keeps you loving Oh no Here comes mania She’s runnin a little late In the day But I’ll take her over him I’ll take her over the other session I’ll take her over and over - Succession Succession Succession Always success. Always More. Never afraid. Never no.
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The very first episode of Naked Poetry!
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I’m so grateful to be able to have his platform to get my heartache out there and have it help people, and have people enjoy it. It feels so good to “turn your heartbreak into art.”
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Original music and words performed by me
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“You’re enough” by Zac Hanson
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Dear Somebody,
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Speak To Me— your voice is like a cure to me.
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Cold and even with this breeze it ain’t worth it. But it’s worth the sweat and bronze burned shoulders. Poisonous sun. Aloe. My favorite part is watching it sink in. HER favorite part is watching the skin show itself out.
I guess we all have interesting ways of ending our days. Some take swigs of coffee then go for a mighty run. Bask in the poetic frenzy that follows. Practice that concerto in your fingertips-- don’t you lose that beat! Breathe, baby, breathe. Practice beneficial doubt. I guess we all have ways of getting through our days. Some people embrace changes others form a stampede and drink. Some people drive stick shift ‘round corners of cliffs or stitch up spliffs. Some people take the doors off their cars. Wrangler, Jeeps. Barbie Reynold’s pink. You’re a lot like heating pink letting it cool mixing it with white and tossing into light-- I guess we all have different ways of expressing our DNA.
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Lost in my own shoes I want to be grace So I listen to you move.
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I think we all have the power to modulate throughout the day.
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All To become best friends with tomorrow.
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On the days you wish to fall: Remember your mind. how it fumbles and fights for any sort of Love and loss and scene, end scene, never end the scene, keep your will and accept your rage be happy. Be happiest when you’re falling for the soul longs to be proven.
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And I don’t know needlepoint yet but I taught myself long ago how to be a record player so I know how to make people Dance To Me
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Daddy I miss you. Take me back. Take me back
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Imagine a poem in 3,000 words.
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This is a striking reminder of how much love there is in the world.
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So grab a Bible, I know you want to. Get yourself a red pen and go to town! Switch all the X's into O's speak it out loud and see what you conjure. Pay attention to your comfort. Pay attention to your smile. Pay attention to the alertness you feel after hitting twelve miles. Pay attention to your steps and remember every eighth breath. You're going to be amazing. Do you know that about yourself?
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Experience flesh. Let me find you. Approach the city. Pursue your visions. Stand speechless while I watch your eyes travel until I'm sick-- Starve me. I want a hunger that rivals the sun in anger. I want a city. Say a word. Watch me let it in slowly-- Starve Me. Stack stars until they're magic and leaning. Use them to cross over. Send me stills of a heart unguarded like the mad sense of a hatter the flesh is an Experience. Deceive me with elegance, annihilation, and eyes that rob me of Love.
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Because at the end of the day, I would rather be a run-on sentence than some sort of simplistically sound fragment.
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You know what? Sometimes you just have to sing it out.
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And I’d have you center stage—proving nature isn’t pain. Meanwhile, I’m on the ground with letter blocks building a tower that says, “I love you.” That’s the soul-mate in me. You’re the soul-mate in me. You’re the soul I am longing for when I yell, “Where is she, where is she!?” I have already written a letter to Stan. Told him that I didn’t need another plan. That I have shopping bags full of the scenes you bring into me. Out of me. My forever muse. Even your heartbeat is art. I’m going to record it someday and use it as my metronome whenever I’m feeling lonesome, or when I am missing you.
I Swear.
I can’t call it a library if you’re not in it. I think the flowers must have been dreaming when they made you.
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I gave you eight matches...
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Most days I feel like I am nothing but memorized screams held within the pages of a dusty red book sitting lonely on top of love’s bookshelf waiting for you to Read Me
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Too bright. Too good. I was there. I felt it. I shook hands with you out of body. Beach first. Moment divided by a second. Re-birth. Back on sand, toes to water but to tell you my truth sometimes I'm too cold. Back on land in front of your building. No, no, back on sand. Hands behind my mind. Your head, my heart. I said something and I hope you heard it. Because when the moon arrives I'll have to go. I have to go.
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Screenplay/ Dialogue exercise
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Thank you so much for the call in. I felt I needed to post it as an episode because sometimes it can be easy to forget how appreciated you are! How much you're needed in the world. Thank you for your support and I hope you keep listening.
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The sign said, "do not deliver the newspaper", but I wasn't listening. Oh, no. I was too busy looking at the angel in your reflection thinking I could look at this computer all day forever! This newspaper can walk from here, right? No, but thank you, officer! I think I'll stay right here amongst beauty , until God herself says run along baby girl. And even then I might play a gam of, "Or what..."
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It's not your fault you see X's where everyone else sees O's.
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Now, I am dancing. Now, I am back. Back at our standard. Back in our hour. Where we danced like it was the end of our movie. Where we danced like it was the end of our movie. Life was her movie and it was only 32 years long life is a movie and it's only so many years long so by all means Scream. 3,000 times less the hair on a woman's body. 3,000 times more the love she will have for her first-born second-born third, fourth, and beyond this-- The Last Night. Colder than I am when my nerves take their rest Rest their break Break they do. When my doors slam then close. One more inch of snowfall and I'll be glad to escape these red, dead eyes. Making sure they lead with their sharp side. My shoulders jolt and I scream for my darling wondering How long will this one last?
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Hats off,
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Repost / mood / original song
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I wish you’d rise so I could see you—become the surface of my sea. I need to stop this Rose in my cheeks —
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I’m sorry—I just noticed how actor’s hands don’t shake—oh, my God is that a bowling ball? How about we shake on it how about we lead woth the land how about we end in bliss. Im sorry---i just noticed how tragedy breeds comedy, no matter how fast you try and turn the page.
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Let me know if you wanna trade nuances. Okay—-go for Significance. Go for magniloquence. I was told there’s no sleep till Brooklyn. That’s great because I’m busy staving off the energy trying to balance out the masculine and feminine energy and tripling down on synesthesia.
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He says, anytime I’m stuck I write a sentence that’s true and I’m okay again. This fellow had a point. Something that is true always survives. The truth always survives the lie. Even if the owner is the only one who knows. Hey! This fellow had a point! This fellow was Ernest Hemingway. Hemingway said, “Anytime I have trouble writing I just sit down and write a true sentence. After that, everything’s okay again.” You see, everyone has a magic trick. But not everyone is brave enough to give them away. Don’t tell anyone, but when I find myself stuck I write down a single word. Then I’ll look at it and begin to build a story around it. Think of it like a painter beginning with a single color. Getting inspired by whatever it stirs in them. It’s like a game of recall. Funny where a series of letters can lead you…
This is as far as I’ll go
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“Do I get to choose the promise?” “It depends, do you keep your promises?”
I explained to her that I would let her choose the promise if she was someone who kept their promises. Because people are more likely to keep something they chose themselves. When is the last time you broke something you chose? Or why. The only problem I can think of is one of anger. Anger trumps a promise every time, ask anyone! Anger leaves nothing left standing that can claim to be whole. It’ll tear right through you. Straight through the morality you’ve been building your whole life. Straight through the promise you’ve kept safe in a harbor in honor of love.
“If you keep your promises, then I’ll let you choose because you are more likely to keep the promise if you chose it special.”
Because people are more likely to keep a promise they’ve chosen themselves.
This is as far as I’ll go.
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I will leave them for you when I am gone, so you can read them to our children as bedtime stories while I silently weep in the last corner I stood still in. The pictures we take on Christmas day will have to be synced to the same day we were both born. That way, we can always take two. I will always blink twice before we get a good one. You will comment on my smile and I will say why oh why are you talking about yourself - my unhinged angel. You look great today. Do you remember when I told you that I would break my heart for you? Well I would. I would let you murder me too. I mean it, if you needed to. I would. At least I would die in beauty. At least your hands were the last to leave me.
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Every night I will read to you. I will read you half my journals, half improvisation. Depending on the light and the way in which you lay. From that angle I can see every part of you. You’re my favorite freckle. I promise to read to you if you promise I can whisper. I want to have angels with you. We can guide them and never let them figure life out the same way we did. We will teach them how to love in the lost way. We will take them to the ocean each week and ask them if they notice anything different. They will always say no. They will always say yes! And take out their ink pen and list a hundred different things! Just the way we taught them! Just the way we know them. Our son will be named Ezra; our daughter will be Eden. If she happens to receive your eyes I will prepare her for what is coming. Teach her all the ways to say the word admiration and will make her a red picture frame to put her heart in when she wants to take a break from falling. She will be so beautiful, t
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50 points knife play champagne on the bed red wine in the air everyone in a whole while I’ll stop laughing when you stop wanting to die it’s not a joke anymore it’s been fifteen minutes since I’ve heard you silent. You’re wearing red, you never wear red. Please talk to me my love is on the line my earrings are all in place back-breaking neck work to create a flower bed I go there sometimes when the weather’s right.
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Thought I’d post some positive vibes lest we forget we all have our purpose here. I think I might’ve found mine!
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Must have been the hours of sleep. Could not have been the first installment of your voice—your perfectly sultry face.
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I remember
balloons
full of water.
Shot guns
and punctured
balloons.
Rain came
and left the
mud
dancing.
The devil
re-traced
his steps
and rolled away
when
the rain stopped.
The hills were
drunk
and happier than
ever before.
So happy they did
bad things,
relying on the rainbow
to clean their eyes.
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Stop Wishing
me lucky.
Lest I be completed
in something other than
a circle,
I’ll call out to you.
Stop getting involved
with my stars.
They aren’t very friendly. I’d stop
reaching out to them
if I were you, they’re not listening to you.
They’re never gonna see you—
Your lights are off.
You’ve gone out of business.
You’ve let people inside and they’ve taken
EVERYTHING.
Even your favorite clock.
The silent one.
That doesn’t remind you of your
metronome.
The loud one. Without controls.
It’s nothing like that Light Bulb.
Let it go.
it’s only fishing for compliments.
It’s a one-sided
matinee show you’ll never see the Ending.
You maybe saw yourself beginning.
Whatever it was—
it was not lasting.
That’s why you Dream
in length
and width.
When you’re too silent,
people yank and stick their thoughts in you.
When they talk —
I dream of E n d i n g
Whenever they walk,
they are just beginning
will they always remain new to this.
I’d wonder
if it mattered.
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If I Knew New York (Interlude, original song)
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She should've been a sculpture in Sydney, Australia. Article 5, newspaper 17 if you need her she'll be lost in lithium vitriolic and upset this girl needs Soul Rest
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Your Seismic Eyes
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Diamond Rain
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Im an addict for you. I’m addicted to the euphoric. I’m addicted to eurphoria
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IF
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Because—-
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Because—I see your face on the cover of every magazine I see your reflection in the water of every bottle I drink and I’m scared to laugh when I get in the ocean because I’m scared I’ll cry for you. Every first year was half as long as your very first vein extending the sound of your very own heartache fingerprint smashing the ink spot on and off and on and off and on like the fraction that fractured my skull and the rapture that wraps you within where were you when you weren’t you? I can’t even get an hour and a half past you—baby halves of a half of a wishbone making fun of the spine in my backpack what’s the matter, can’t you fly? Fall asleep at the sight of your smile bearing beautiful armies of tears palms up like the shine of a spoon staring blankly at the chance of you ever seeing the backsplash of your own eyelash yes, you! The ladder crumbling underneath my skin my favorite favorite feeling so much better for me than hope because ho
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Terrible Terror
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Let me ask you something: “Do you turn your head for roses?”
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Dream Sweet (I) Part II
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Dream Sweet (I) Part I
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The answer is always evening. The answer is always Evening out
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Let me hear your voice it’s like a cure to me.
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The world is a gentle place if only you would be sensitive to its touch.
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Small Mysteries
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You could be the whole world if you wanted to.
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Why I wrote “Plane Crash”
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Why do you write?
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And it’s important. How you hold me.
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Syntax me silly, bomber boy. Beauty boy. Laugh me listless til I mourn. Burn my after beam so backwards.
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Maybe I'm Finally Home
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The Constant
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It was on the mezzanine Where we saw day tame the night The stage held our eyes in separate hands clocked together methodical in nature Oxymoron we Lust Our smiles Stitched into microfilm Speaking of the light and how it loved us.
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You once said to me, “it’s your soul that’s beautiful” Well, what if I told you that I haven’t been able to lose a beauty contest since I met you. That I have to make space now for impact. Because everyone wants to know my secret. My love. My aura. To join my flame. To claim my smile because now it’s worth its weight in Time. The priciest factor. The most pressing factor. Unabashedly precise. So forgive me. If I do not ask you how we could be better off because I’ve never heard of anyone who was “better off”. Without their “one” without their matching puzzle piece, without their sky, without peak without middle C, A or B. Without their Me.
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All writers are ghosts. When we dream it is not accident. Everything in us is waiting.
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- Dear somebody, which is stronger, great hate or great love? Are they not the same? I will come back to these questions but I have a powerful feeling inside me -feels like whatever has been trapped inside my heart has its perfect hands pressed flat against my walls, pushing my ceilings into cathedrals. It is a good thing I taught myself long ago that mistakes can be, in the final stage, bring with them beauty. This is why for every mistake I stain a glass.
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Forgive Me
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Your Eyes Are Full of Kerosene
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I smell like deep woods and what it takes to climb a thousand pound emerald. Scratches because I’m sorry.
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My heels are branded by a frosted flame that wants everything but me.
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\My Type Of Angel - On your command here is my voice. I’ll send it to you whole but listen in fragments. hold them still. here is my music. Sometimes–when I forget to remain calm before an audience I force myself to remember every cloud I’ve ever seen—–then I exhale in their memory. I’m a lonely soul. Need someone near to give some of my hearts away to but I’m not waiting for just any angel I’m waiting for a specific kind of angel. One who will hold me still.
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Make Me Sing the Blues
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Excuse me, there’s a white baby grand over there that I should be playing :)
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I... wanna kiss your hand on a boat south of everything.
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Even at ten, I’d beam at the chance to change someone’s past... I wanted nothing but to be a crystal ball.
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Careful!
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The universe and I have this treaty, see— says— I’ll let you be the voice of reason if every once in a while you become one with me.
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Dear somebody, you would have loved it here. The sun rises whenever it wants and it’s not illegal to get lost at sea. You can look at the sun now—it cures cancer. And the only reason...
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Dialogue, imagined.
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And so she fell asleep.
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I think she got her majors and minors confused.
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I like how trees never end unless you want them to.
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Dialogue Of the Heart
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Haiku
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Merciless
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On Art
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It is always quietest——-after it rains.
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I’m into it. I’m into it.
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To balance
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Watch & Earn.
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Very thin. Very thin and married.
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You taught me laughter— and abandon...
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No longer will I Long for the rest... is all here.
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It started downstairs. The spreading. The missed sorrow...
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Bay winds
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There are certain arrows...
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We are not sentient beings avoiding circuity for the sake of saving sorrow. We are not bottled up hymns—
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Believe it or not, there ARE a set amount of colors to choose from.
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Why do you slip every time you pass a church?
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Modulation. Balance of the heart. I believe we all have the power to modulate throughout the day.
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Never have I ever
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Never have I ever fallen...
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Weird World. Muscles are lengthening. Long lines. You’ll see ‘em...
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Weird World. Muscles are lengthening. Long lines. You’ll see ‘em...
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My night...
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I like a racing stripe. Just one though.
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I always say!
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.
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I miss you. Take me back to naps on your shoulder, to talks in your G20 on afternoons & mornings with my little sister by my side drinking our vanilla or strawberry boost. Take me back. Take me back to OUR laughs, in unison, where we smile the same smile and to the night where I came in from a run into the kitchen and out of nowhere you said “Adèle, you have this... angel like presence about you.” How I looked at you in shock. How you said “I’m serious.” And how proud, confused and determined I was to prove you Right. Take me back to poems every Christmas typed up with your hand written signature— Typed with your care and love. How you prefer lavender — over every color in the world— how I know why, without even having to ask, because I am your daughter— your “double creature emanating from cosmic wisdom. How I can feel you from here the way you say love you more! Because you do love me more- despite the mal -chemistry in my brain. E
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What Do You Want To Be Remembered For?
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Happy morning. Makes me smile because...
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I need you to know that you’re responsible for the day I let go of my fists.
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What do quiet people think about? Your tempo. Dialogue. The move through. Preferring silence. Didn’t you know? This is as far as I’ll go.
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Here’s what happened when I asked my dad the question, “what’s it like to have a daughter?”
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Because you asked me what color my blood was and didn’t even flinch when I said... it’s True.
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Are you right or left handed? Yeah that’s gonna be a deal breaker for me. Too common. I like recessive traits Because they MADE it, you know? O, I’m only kidding. It’s just fun to think about...
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To be ideally Gorgeous Without putting a knick in time-- impossible--To go forwards and backwards Within the same moment -without knocking down a few doors--when getting IN turned out to be easier than getting OUT--
Okay but for now-- I need to figure out where do I put all of this San Diego sand
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On Sundays
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Soundproof not bulletproof Wake up and smell the morning thunder. Take what you wish From It. Existence. A mirror image. A pleasant sound. Your first quiet moment of the day. Solitude. Jail cell with one window, just a Few cracks. The guy in there’s man enough to admit that he thinks Birds are Beautiful, and that flight could heal things. Secretly wishes the window was soundproof, but not bulletproof. Says he would Accept death, if he didn’t have to Hear it Coming. The void is welcoming and Droning. The void is a Perfect Pitch. I don’t think I have anything the void wants. It does not want your Things. They are of no use to your Paths. There’s no such thing as Waiting, or Wanting. There’s no Time. Problem Solved. We are Just Pieces. Stop trying to fix yourself with a hammer and not nearly enough Nails– we don’t need Sealing. We are not envelopes– Even if we move cross country We’re not Envelopes We don’t have destinations We’r
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Some kids laugh when they get baptized. Other kids cry. I wonder which is which. I wonder which is more sinful. What’s worse than a witch?
I think It lies in their electricity. Call it classic Reversed Richard, extroverted Eric. Once more with feeling! And this time For the people
Let the music through. What kind of love is that? Roll it again, people.
To the people You are a person Wholly accountable For your own last laugh
(Enter the orchids) Roll down your sleeves. This is your moment. Tell me to leave.
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You— you are exactly like this— derivative of my future melded I To the cleverness Of you Compounded by the circumstance of you.
O, I’m concerned. Yet I’ve never felt so ME I’ve never felt so tough and treasured ...I’ll have to come back to you in forty years listen, ask me the question in forty years.
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My most prized possessions can be found on Paper. Something about the ink makes me want to be Taller, Makes me want to stretch my arms out until they get So Tired they (decide) to transform into Pages. I want to be turned. --( permanent.) I want to be touched. Folded, Crinkled Tear Stained Ripped Numbered Filled to the Brim I want to be opened and closed in the same day. I want to be remembered and stood up to Rest upon Shelves. I want to end in the perfect moment. (I want to end in all the perfect moments) I want to be protected from the rain and held in hands, frequent. Want to be hard backed with one spine, maybe two. I don't want to be judged by how many pages I have to offer. or how heavy I am or how dark my Cover Is. or the words inside me, or my ink or where I'll fit.
I don't want to drown in Dust on the top shelf of what once was paradise. Don't want to be used as a stool to Step On-- or a weapon for your fears of insects. ( for what you think is
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One fire at a time. One fire at a time.
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What’s the deal?
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And I saved a hallelujah for you. It is located in room number 353. Where your heartbeats should have been. I’ll be waiting there, along with a hundred other shadows. I see you in the mirror white devils. You are my ancestors. I am ashamed of you.
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Smile.
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Bad day, explained.
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I believe certain places on earth remind you how to take a breath correctly.
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Pink & Purple Before she sleeps
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Sometimes somethings are somewhere. That’s how easy we are.
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If.
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.
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Is It My Thill?
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Freedom
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Welp,
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The last emotion
and nights, spent laying on my bed Arms raised waiting for you to Fall For Me but not all the way just yet. only Hovering maybe two inches above me Perhaps for the next eighty years So we can watch each others faces change they finally collapse and we'd lay like that for the next eighty years watching our faces change, waiting for the Last emotion To make us cry and when your single tear falls out of your eye and into mine I'll know exactly how you feel.
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What am I Supposed to do the Train is still moving. You Jumped Off without me. Left me with a Stack of bricks Scared-- like we all are of Falling Over There was no trace of handwriting so I flipped them back Over. I couldn't Bear to Count them. You yelled at me like I had jumped off and you had not. You Yelled At Me like you were on the train and I was Not. But you jumped off.
I did not. You jumped off
I did Not. and I tried to give you a second
Glance. Because you say that I'm your Witch Doctor But you won't let me
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Tight-lipped and overwrought. She fought light, her favorite crime.
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So grab a Bible- I know you want to - get yourself a red pen and go to town. Switch all the x's into o's speak it out loud and see what you conjure - pay attention to your comfort - pay attention to your smile. Pay attention to the alertness you feel after hitting 12 miles. Pay attention to your steps and remember every 8th breath. You’re going to be amazing, do you know that about yourself?
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Hey, Eden. Maybe You will be my freedom. I can stop looking at the sea.
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Teach me How To Smile Dream and Witness. How else Can we be True? Don't Forget to Explore The places you've lived in It is Important Because you can't go back there. Mom and Dad-- won't always be there to Greet You. ...at That Door. Be sure to lock your Front door. And use the same password you used for that secret clandestine club you had during your blooming childhood. You had to Think about letting your Sister in. As if you had a Choice. She's been there since I was three-- When she decided she was ready to join us. We Were Happy to Hold You. You knew this, so when you figured out the secrets of Speech you continued saying "Hold this" LIke it was your autograph. (It became your signature had you known what an autograph was. Listening to you incredible demand made the whole Family Happy. Left the whole Family in innate Happiness. (You) We were Happiest When You were Being Held. Want to know a se
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Both My Knees (my original song, my voice transposed to G# minor)
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Part I
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Meditation part II
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Meditation On Confidence III
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Part I
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Eruption masks your loneliness but soon it’s gonna happen. The clock will strike a number you’ve...
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I Met a Girl From Germany Yesterday
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Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
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My daily data report shows that I should know by now, that such Brazen remarks on the remarkable might leave far too many marks on the impossible human heart. O, who cares? Who calls? Whenever I leave town to follow Elizabethan poetry wherever it should go, landing in quarries and mouthfuls of ebb and ponds full of useful flow flowing backwards never sorry, allowing me one pose, slightly knowing, however sad it may seem, that i may never be coming back.
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Organize me. Suspend me. Revive my laughter.
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Just when I thought I’d never hear from the mermaid again...
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My signature resembles silence. My hands victims of your hands—leaving me alone. We were half ideal like leaving fire and water in a room to talk talk it out...
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But hearing that six note fall in his voice — is the most pleasant part of my day.
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The phantom says to me/you’re beautiful, I love you/ no, you are love, I’m just witnessing/you are a prepossessing Angel/at least I thought you were/I was wronged/you win/ you don’t/ I love you / if you knew me/ if I knew New York/ if I hunted more/ if my voice was powerful enough for that/
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I had words that day.
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12 verses, The body. I can only sing—— when I’m in front of one.
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It’s a wild honey night. Listen fierce. Check a pulse. All flowers match the sunlight. Tonight, crawl with me. Quick with stride. We’ve seen this before, death. But when we died we never became Rest I guess we were meant to be left– alive. Snapped twitch breathing–warm–anything but misery, sure. We are not indecisive we just know that’s not what we’re looking for. We float around, watching people get tattoos of things we’ve said wondering if they know that that’s the wrong kind of pain. It’s a lonely story night. It’s a pain to control your might, it’s exhausting to try and take a bow after finding out that there’s no honey. And the night is just as timid as you are.
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Hint of Joy
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On Depression
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He keeps calling me, “sweetheart”
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Memorized hellos.
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Safe.
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Save their days.
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My dear goddess— I am on the ground for you.
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And yesterday I saw his blue guy and this yellow guy and I thought wow together they would be evergreen. How pretty would that be?
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Soul-rest
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It happened like this:
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Sweet dreams.
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I keep it for the luck——- that it could be.
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These are the days
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Every Day Is A Frenzy
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Hold a face in your hands —— and you’re holy Again
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Begin with chance. Start fire to enhance the urgency. Make sure your power is on. Make sure your power works. Activate. Surge forward through that fence that you built by accident. Accelerate. From now on you will glisten. No more playing the dream game. Practice your reactions. React to the appropriate whisper. When it arrives be honest. Be kind of quiet. Exercise this. Exercise yourself. Apologize for abandoning your fire in the first place. Do not return to that place. Come back! Be silent. Notice the plane bearing its red steps for you--do not forget to smile and remember you glisten. Pay no attention to your ghosts. Be entirely quiet. They are the saddest of you. Do not join them.
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Two balloons outside
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Of Fall
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When
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Proving nature isn’t pain.
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And I’ll go for a walk
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The kind of beautiful where you have to look away for a second, almost like you got punched in the face, but it doesn't h u r t necessarily, it's not that kind of pain, it's .... It never happens and when it does it shocks, and also soothes, I can only hope that you love my face that way too...
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Have trust in me, judges. I have the most tremolo possible. This shakiness isn't all technique. The illness it won't speak don't ask me. My friends tease me Parkinson's. I smile like a rainbow jump-roping and think if they even knew my grandpa--how he lost is eye on contact. His sisters hands. She ran with scissors. The ultimate catastrophe. Maybe that'd shut them the Fuck up. Bastards. Gorgeous, gorgeous bastards. I watch my lipstick stain my diet coke.
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She's 80% complex. 20% lethal I can tell you how she'll end. Her neurons will cross my fingers. The universe will give up its knees. Her name will become the very transportation I seek. The love will rush away. Her eyes will stay awake. The pupil pushed forward in an effort to control your mind. You will find her on S. ocean Blvd. Your motions will slow and your heart will scream for a witness. Air to God god damn goodness goodness goodbye good friend. The sea she is... 80% complex, 20% lethal. I'm talking about Palm Beach. It is not an experience, it is Eden on Earth.
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Engaged. Preferably to an odd man. Il Est Riche! Ideally opposite Of all you reflect. You secretly hate it all and want to be with the girl who handed you the flower ring. She tried it on Seven hands to make sure it’d fit you right. Dropped to the floor—caught you when everything fell. This is as far as I’ll go.
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One day I remember having this conversation with Hadley, she was watching a documentary on Georgia O’Keefe and it gets to the scene where Georgia is painting the mural and I see her write something down in her notebook. This is what it said:
“She paints like she’s trying to re-write history.” I love what she said when she spoke about heartbreak, when she was so heartbroken that she did not want to paint and when she found something and she would ask herself like she wouldn’t be sure who would want that. But she thought, you never know, someone else may find this animal skull to be as beautiful as I find it to be. Who knows what they might find.”
Well, you do something similar, right? Yeah! I said. Well I think every artist does. I think all of us do. We just write or create what we find beautiful and hope “ Do I?’” She turns to me, looks at me. eyes wide and open. “You write like you’re trying to bring life to life,” she
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Segment where once I week I will attempt to explain why or how I wrote a poem or two. The segment where I explain the inspiration behind the poem.
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Sentence me to order Niagara Falls to stop Falling. And the Sahara to drink more water. And for Pluto To come home soon. SHAKE me– until I’m Morse Code “USE the silence,” I say. Until I am nothing but numbers in your night vision I have become silence– with my glossy lips and certified fingertips O, I’m more than California. I’m California on mute and waves in reverse I am New York City with grey hair and a gold suit. I am Fresh air. A seductive under-cut I am loose letters dividing your attention into thousands of endings you’re desperately looking for a kiss That doesn't exist How is it you Are completely silent when you yell?
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If I would’ve known...
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Between echoes You found your boundaries. never on time but you could always relate--returning your own calls within accuracy without emergency Wishing to emerge free From the only flaw you saw Hiding you from all the important Angles.
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For 6 years & 1 life. Loved. Not fully loved. Loved for life. “I can’t stop speaking love songs against you,” Circle horse. Linksters Tap Room drunk-synced With the moon and you. Proud. Cigarette, after Cigarette, after cigarette. Clean hair. Lists. 1Love letter book 2. Random dogs in frames 3. Illustration book. 4. Printing press--Free Pizza 5. Buy a Boat 6. Plant flowers in city sidewalk cracks. 7. West Palm Beach 8. Wearing matching Guy Harvey Shirts 9. Carve something in a tree 10. Burn slowly in a dancing Room 11. Smile and point straight at the camera 12. Press pause
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So I said to the photographer, "you you know we're the same you and I, we both capture moments--you use light and I use words. Your pixels are my letters.
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Wandering to my morning classes, I wonder if my ruins would look different than they would have yesterday. Is this fair? I think to myself and the sun blazed ground–around here nothing you love comes back. Back to back to wall–too close to call you friend too bashful to call you lover. That is this. I’ve had this much. It is two o’clock and I think it is a sunday. I tell the animal to calm down that is outside my window. She doesn’t say much but when she does I write it down. Her nickname is messiah. A goddess gift from a cloud filled with her own reign she lit her own throne on fire–and walked away nameless. Refusing that she was related to anything but God. That spirit. That factor. She folds her arms into themselves and sleeps.
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Mood.
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This is very appropriate for tonight.
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This will make you stronger than who you are.
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Prizes to those with pinch marked flesh!
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Stop.
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Give Mind Rest
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It is awake when I sleep, yes, my guilt occurs consciously
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NOTHING is more important than this day.
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This is my mother’s favorite song for me to play for her. It’s a special piece to me and I hope you all enjoy it and pass it on as well.
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White walls and cold compress I never got headaches until I tried to become a part of the world. My biggest fear, (love), is that the echoes of our innocence will never be heard again. That our tears are frozen. That you won’t love me back…AND forth.
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Darling. Blue of my veins. Guard of my dreams. Redeemer of my wrath. Designer of my trust, us. Darling. Red of my heart Beast of my best Heart of my haunting Beauty of my being Darling. Healer of my trauma Freckle in my eye Memory of my life Stars in my skin Darling. Speaker of my mind Treasure in my story Lullaby of the night Midnight on the sun Darling. Queen of my Egypt. Color of the stream. Sense of my seasons. Blue of my veins.
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Very vivid memory. Wait. I'm on your side. But I'm not believing. I'm not believing until I feel pressure On my lips Have you found the flag yet? I planted it In the middle of your Sore Shoulder blades Sore from all the mushrooms And I / ve got Hallways full of mistakes I'm just by hungry anymore. At least not that kind of hungry. I'm hungry for water. For experience and triumph. For the mountain top. I hear there are Islands of arpeggios C sharp is my favorite Could it be secondhand?
You're like a painting. (Except) You are your own era.
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Please don't tell me my dreams don't exist because then I'm gonna have to drop them off at your doorstep
Because then I'm gonna have to pull them from my fingertips and I can only do that once and it's a pretty little problem because then I'll have to become them In front of you ◦And I don't want to embarrass you It's rude and you taught me better than that Please don't tell me how much I don't make sense I know this I've felt myself knock a good day down Just For the sake of it 25 years. before the hand on the clock left. Like clockwork Like bee sting Like envy Like honey at the end of your handy work on a hard day in a hot climate. So you've had a change of pace So you've had a change of plan Like clockwork Like seeing Like a cure I wish you wouldn't you wouldn't do so many drugs I wish you weren't so scared… of me
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The sky is both genders. Especially at 5:46 PM In Florida. And I watch As Blue and pink start A war. I call my Friends and tell them To look up-- There is a fire in the sky
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You have s heart condition...
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At least SEE if
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I would rather
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After the plane crashed...
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In the mood to swallow fire...
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I imagine it will be like a flight of baby doves...
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Experience flesh. Let me find you. Approach the city. Pursue your visions. Stand speechless While I watch your Eyes travel Until I’m sick Starve me. I want a hunger That rivals the sun In anger I want a city. Say a word. Watch me let it in Slowly Starve me Stack stars Until they’re magic and leaning. Use them to cross over. Send me stills Of a heart unguarded Like the mad sense Of a hatter The flesh is an experience. Deceive me with Elegance Annihilation and Eyes that rob me of Love
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Every day: blue words swing by me I nod my knots and spot clean my soul ’til it’s gone
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We will meet in Elysium. Lullabyic hysteria “It is too late,” I said. The fire is open. Where is war when you need it? We will meet in Elysium. Lullabyic hysteria I will play romance on my violin until a thousand dollars fills my case. We can race the racetrack until our lungs come back. O, L. Reach out and try it. Our cigars will still smoke a hundred years later. This is how the mad half lives.
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hum to soothe. sing to say it. will love you always. my right to pain. don't want anymore. can't cover the culprit can't prevent the benefit. concert piano your goals make love out of your outcries
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Whoa
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“I lost my knife”, I heard the boy say. In my head I continued the conversation on my own by thinking: how strange, because I just felt it thrust through my spine line, yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m just doing a little Speaking. Because I don’t know where you are and because I have a love for you that bears no ending I’m not talking madness here, I’m not talking madness here —here I am talking madness, dear. Dear love if I could just KISS you awake each day that’d be enough for me. If I could I’d send you letters everyday so that you’d know how I miss you. How it hurts and how you fix me. You fix me and I love you. I love you and I love you.
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Sleep now beautiful. I think I am ready now. Your touch, you’ve changed the course of my breathing. Breathe now beautiful. This could be all of it, right here. I thought I was ready for a tomorrow but now I am not so sure. But it is time. Hold me now and closely. Tighter now. I want to make sure your beauty gets Stuck in my Sleep. In my bones and in my tweaks make me a habit. Make it a me. Drive slowly now beautiful. Not so fast – this is only a dream. I don’t know how long it will be, but I haven’t a worry, there’s no need Listen …you have killed me. Everyone heard the gunshot. I don’t know who heard us breathing. Or us stopping. Congratulations now beautiful. We made a deal that we would die tonight. Funny how I’ve never been so excited. I refuse to say goodbye now beautiful. Please, allow me to repeat step two. I have a new fondness for the letter D now. I didn’t know I had a problem but you’ve solved it. Now I am just Desi
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autograph me until I become part of your history tattoo the part in your lips so I can claim that I knew you audibly you were soft but you could be provoked. I’d hide dandelions under your pillow stacked them high with tight rope you’d call me silly. I’ll always be silly. how I loved you was impossible, tinted blue, and ran around like a calm boy who’d just been told that he would be fine print one day. how I loved you was invincible, dead red, like a fresh cut from breaking through our bedroom window to get our notebook before the fire left us nothing but boring old flames. how I love you is not perceivable I couldn’t even tell you how I love you in so many days I couldn’t even tell you how I love you in so many years I couldn’t even tell you how I love you in so many tears.
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The kiss
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And the angel said to me, “Look, you are already, ready, so stop your correcting. You were there every time the seconds shifted, You were there when the clouds broke And you were there when you were full of fire.” Yes I was full of fire I was full I was full You were right. So come on attack me You unfading flower Understand that this room holds me In the center of its hands With a rachmoninov heart And one violin Accompany me You unfading flower Because I understand That you were born with The blues scale Underneath your Fingertips I guess that’s how come I never ever hear you cry.
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Round table. I’m on the left side drinking my coffee I look up and I see this mystery of a girl and I can’t help but wonder if SHE knows that she looks like fate.
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Preclude me. The soul should be conditioned for this kind of Love… …has no author. only a showman for the shrine.
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So which is it are you the audience or the performer? Are you the light or the or the glow? The head or the stand? The home or the land?
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Okay but it’s heartbreaking here, overall. There’s missing you. And then there’s missing you. Okay but it’s also mesmerizing--when I don’t hear from you. A mirage of sawdust rises from my fingertips trapped in the ridges of my fingerprints like stories rivers, just whatever is left of the memory I have of the stunning temperature you pressed into my lips. What can compete with that? The law of averages cannot apply here. You can’t average this out, we’re 50 points ahead, at least! At least… you haven’t forgotten me. That’s what your handwriting told me. Red penned ink forced into my collar bones. Oh wow how you loved them. Oh my how it felt. Tell me about my bones once more. Tell me how much you love them. Tell me about my bones once more. Tell me again how we met... you said to tell you what I was thinking I was thinking why isn’t she kissing me.
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3.The world is a beauty after a rockstar and some electrolytes. I think I'll walk 8 miles now. I think I'll make someone happy today. Maybe star in my own parade.
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Because some of the saddest sounds I've ever heard have come out of a piece of wood
Carved just to mimic The human voice Strings placed in unity Held up by a bridge Are you HEARING this Are you having a good day How about now
Now that my bow is no longer Hitting the strings That my wrist isn't cradling your neck, Dear violin, I have missed your dance. I have missed your candor Your call
I realize we haven't been the best of friends Lately But tonight
I am going to pick you up. I'm going to tune you back to life. I'm going to weep onto your body. I'm going to listen to you sing. I'm going to record your soul And show it to the world.
I will show them the bruise you left On my left collar bone How red it turns when I love you For too long. I will show them the salt I left on your body I am sorry for the awful scars I hope that they don't sting I will show them that every time I picked you up I was able to say things that move Far faster than words
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- She can’t pick up goldfish with her bare hands but she can pick up thrill with her smile she is ecstasy. She keeps my heart wild. I see sure takes of film when I watch her she mends my applause when it weakens she sews me true callings surrounding my ceiling developing distance learning laughter and forgetting we’re going to die. We’re a pulse-betting game, you and I. Jackpot steals the winner. The winner wins heaven when heavens out of town. Of course the winner wins. Of course she can’t pick up the goldfish she can see their pulsing hearts such red greatness such good life in that water heart through gills of guilt mottos of triangular sins of course the winner wins of course the winner wins of course the winner wins.
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When I unearthed her eyes were closed in a sacred blink. I dusted her lips with gold and whispered, "you are gorgeous in pieces." I saw every bone, very own ivory keys. (you are gorgeous in pieces.)
That was when I noticed; That was when I noticed the ring. I thought I lost it in my oldest home After I gave birth to my eldest son On the top were two lions Jaws open wide I loved that ring I loved that ring.
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Clean Skin. Baptism fresh. In fact, I’ll take my baptism back, thanks. Thanks be to all I trust. Thanks be to all I need. Thanks be to those who leave me. Thanks be to their ghosts. No more thanks. This is all I know: There is no distance long enough to change this. I am not young and I will never be old.
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Poems Make You Pretty
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Before I left she said bring to me these gifts I want Abandonment of the body Dishonor Of the heart A graveyard for flowers Cradles for yr guns An aquirium full of matches So I can play with proximity I want an arm full of sun.
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You don’t memorize. Don’t light up on you sometimes. Out of sequence. Nothing you’d want to retrace - not a thing like a Naked Lunch. You’ve got to rehab swallow speech – it’s the lust I’ll tell you what. Stroke the trauma. Your eyes are major skies with a pathway to gorgeous. Your eyes are major skies with a minor chord inside. Harpsichord badass, you have never lost a thing. Fight. Turn your heels into ash. “Why can’t sorrow be cherished?” I said to no one at all. I’d follow it all if I couldn’t… Would not you? Don’t pretend, don’t you dare pretend. “Don’t pretend that there’s no method to smoking a cigarette.” I thought to myself as I watched someone smoke out of a window. Yeah, I think there’s a method to smoking a cigarette. Ask someone. I plan to question all. Now I’ve only been to the madhouse once or twice maybe a few times and each time I went I interviewed som
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Because, to me, Photography is just like hunting. I’m hunting for moments. I’m hunting for expression. And I’m hunting for immortality.
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On MLK day: Imagine if (the) stars were black. Black, you are beautiful. White, you’re gonna have to wait your turn. You are both beautiful. But only one of you had a choice. One of you can still feel the checkered scars on your back sometimes. Especially, especially, especially Today.
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But I’d get in a fight with fate for you, darling. You’re a painting. You are your own Era.
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Dear Wrath. Dear Dearest. Show me myself—without the shine of prescription.
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You just passed a yellow flower. That’s where I learned to grow. You just passed a yellow Flower. That’s where I stopped my walk to film, do you remember when you passed a Brisk bottle? Listen, Just a reminder, keep your dad moving keep your mother up and keep your sister sunny cos she’s all the way in New York watching you try hard on the internet — wishing you forward cos that’s where you belong. So don’t throw the chess game up just yet. Everyone deserves their moment in the sun. And yours is not far away—don’t you know how long you’ve been walking?
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To Kiss a moment. To get it down on both knees. To spill the vile. To paint your nails electronic blue before playing all of Chopin’s preludes because sometimes– you just need something that will translate into your bones.
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I hope it was me. When you sang today—I hope, I hope it was me.
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And If you looked in our mirror you’d see me, hovering above myself in the moment before we kiss, thinking hopefully this won’t shatter my bones, at the same time thinking so what if it did, so what if I live?
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Lost in my own shoes I want to be grace so I Listen to you move
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Without all dream I am common. Without dream the desert dies. Patience doesn’t like running. Running doesn’t like patience, either. But I am running towards patience so I hope they need me. I hope something needs me. I want a course in collision. I want to live despite dying—I am not defeat. I will never conceal stars. They have too much to burn. The flow of mountains keeps me up at night. The flow of mountains tells me my time is almost up. This is not what I need to hear—still—I bury melancholy as far as the word “damned” allows me. It has always been the tallest statue in my collection of dispositions. I do not know what my countenance screams, no one has ever told me the answer to many of my questions. I dream in words, not photographs. I like to abscond from my own subterranean tricks and vicious vexes. I love to live despite my dying and glean from courses in collision. I love to find things in the imaginary. Pulling rivers and stre
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Speaking of my elocution you’d own the top droplet. And several obedient words… Come a little closer, my broken candle. Let me be your BURNING contralto you shouldn’t have told me there was fire in my voice because now I see in Roman candles And I can’t promise you, no, I promise you I will be happier– skinny as anorexia’s right arm I just have to get over Plateau number three maybe if I bump it up to 6.6 miles maybe if I talked to Satan more maybe maybe Maybe.
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But for those of us Who are kept up by a longing for love. I hope the world is spinning calmly enough for you. I hope doves split your dreams in Two. So that when you dream—you can dream Slowly. Don’t Shake Us Until We Crumble. Allow us to say goodnight to the movement in our chests.
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May, I am —When I am not August or September. When I’m not raining or on Fire—Always on fire, always gone. May, I was. When I wasn’t burning on mars or simply swimming in yr eyes or Gleaming beside your voice. You were looking at me the way I look at things that I’d want to trace, or archive, or speak down, and print. You looked at me the way you’d look at me if you loved in(to) me. You looked at me the way I’ll look at my daughter when she asks me why I am crying. You look at me as if you want me closest to you when we’re breathing. You look at me. That’s what I love about you. You look at me. That’s what I love about you.
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We became drunks one night flying around all Buzzed and Lovely and Beautiful. Because we were together and tender and soft and subtle and that night—we taught each other Lullabies. We made ourselves our Own answers, and I taught you how to become alive inside of another body. How to outsource your heart. It is nothing like life, or sets of twins. Or bones. Or beauty. It is literal skin, and soft, and wonder. It is literal good night Bed Time hands—so soft you feel guilty. It is literally I cannot stop holding you. It is literally hands into your hair. You held a knife to my back and scraped the wax off so I sent it back and seething. It was literally such beautiful words and witches and needles and feathers and pens and phrases and motion that I could not wave my hand in that motion, in that motion that is supposed to mean Goodbye. My Lady. My Moon-crest. Under Saturn’s stars, over their water, Through our eyes, with our eyes, with YOUR eyes. You Look At Me.
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Your body is a trick. …you are not delicate. In my fiction you Steal my fingerprints And wrap them around Your wrists You say, “I’m keeping these for later.” Your body is a trick. …you are not delicate. Your eyelashes sting Deep when they whip me From across the table I just tell myself to count to three. Good thing blood is thick. Good thing Love Lasts. ‘Cause we’re going to be here a while And yes That’s a threat.
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You Better Love Her. (!) Because if I had the Honor-- The Guts, The color, The Tempo, The Timbre... I’d detonate my fear with an upward motion of my chin I’d guarantee the doubt a lifetime supply of can’t get in, and I’d pedal out to the saddest parts of our stories-and to the very front of my war and inspire change. I would actually USE the wings in my shoulder blades.
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I’m so sorry if you felt rushed by me in any way. That was not my intention--I didn’t read you correctly--and misunderstood somewhere along the way. I meant no disrespect. To me, you are actually regal if not a Queen. I hope you can forgive me. Sincerely, Adele
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II.
I have seen people
In angel form.
I have seen
Those I cared for
In angel form.
I have felt
in perfection.
I have slept
With nothing but a feather
on my mind
but it was when I heard
Never
That I lost whichever
Calm words lifted
Me last time I felt
The malice of a good heart.
It was when I heard
Never
that I decided
night
was the time for
enormous goodbyes–
for wet signatures
Dripping with cry
You.
You aren’t even yours.
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I.
Rectangular heart.
Swift guesses–
I am to die for you.
First things are first.
Next you know things
I will be thanking you.
Or else something–
The quotidian love
Will send me glory.
The quotidian love
Sends me haste.
Spoken in risky form
You’ve said nothing.
Save for great
Scathing footnotes
and your deadbeat praise.
Lies
longer than the exhale
you take when you breathe
In your formulated smoke
I hope I die
of YOUR cancer
So that you will have to live.
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I tear at the structure of Heart-ache I tear at the hesitance of bees Before they sting you. I tear at their death dying sting. I tear at the hat on the wall. Mechanistic animals Paint on lovely stones, the Wonder that everyone knows Love thy love thy love thy Song. The twenty-four hour song that you are. Yes, you defeat me. Yes, it is true. My only intent was to love you Clearly. Love is the only part of this Plan. If I am left with nobody in the end then I must not have been Clear enough. Love welcomes no secrets You better answer when it calls for you.
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So far you’ve been so beautiful I’ve prepared to die three times. The first time– I packed your teal sweater. I heard it’s cold where I’m goin’. The second time I left with nothing But my skin I know where I’ve Been why would I need to be reminded. The third time I was honest. I had five words to use and I chose please And Take And Care And Of And Her.
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Too bright. Too good. I was there. I felt it. I shook hands with you out of body. Beach first. Moment divided by a second: rebirth. Back on sand. Toes to water - but to tell you my truth sometimes I'm too cold. Back on land in front of your building. No, no, back on sand. Hands behind my mind: your head. My heart. I said something and I hope you heard it. Because when that moon arrives I'll have to go. I have to go.
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Cover.
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How you pretend we aren’t sex. that you can’t hear me in numbers my name is imagery forget the math in this sin– there is none– I am all for the love of you. We are sex. ten thousand oceans of it We are the same tide. Masters of Sync. Arch. And Moon. You’re the best I’ve never had. I have never let anyone drown me like you do Your name is too pretty, 4060 echoes but I just need one of you it takes this mad girl whole, hole in one and my name is thirty years ago– I landed on my toes, and they didn’t even break– …that’s how strong you make me. My rock, you sink me back into the Right sea. At night we can trade hearts and draw ourselves brand new eyes for our hurricanes we can be violent. We can unplug metronomes and place them in our walkie-talkies in our impatiently goodness gracious hands I am drowning– while you try to stand.
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Don’t Limit This. Write me Letters while your heart— is Opened. Write me letters in the Open Hearted Storm Yes, the storm is coming just hold the Paper down until the right moment comes. Let it go. and send it Up To Me. If I don’t catch it— Keep trying. Tell me you need an answer by Sunrise because that’s the only time you can read it. Tell me to Open my Hands. To stop holding on to Nothing. Don’t Limit This, sincerely, If I’m Yours I want to Know. I am see-through and Empty for your answers. I am Heavy with your Angles. I am hoping for your Hands to find me. Sad you’re Scared and I’ve left the ground already. Stop Limiting This. Start watching my Eyes. No more Screens. They’re just Transformed Mirrors. Look Through me—I don’t mind, really, as long as you Flow right back to me. But if
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I had the best seat on earth. The one between thunder and lightning. I began pacing– as I do when things get too loud. I couldn’t tell if they were fighting– or making love. Arguably, there is no difference. To me– making love is trying to show the other who loves who more.
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I always do something like this. I always imagine myself singing in a castle. A sort of five-part hymnal. Claiming A new sensitivity, yet failing to capture it. Held by music held by angels. My music terrifies me.
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Morning glow,
Don’t you ever settle for dusk. Wasn’t it you said you’d never return to the see of the sphere, where you melted down in my arms. I didn’t know what to imagine so I ran to the moon reflecting on the water and I dove in.
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I knew you were electric when I started peeling forward instead of backwards. When I started to save paper and Dying breaths. I knew you were electric when you refused that you were beautiful. I knew you were electric-- all Hair, and Soap. When you went into poetic Frenzy with me. I knew you were electric when I started listening to you. You were everything I wanted in a counterpart. I don’t care if you’re the wrong Sex. We speak in vague and murder. We are corruption and masque. We kneel out help to one another. We combined our last names so we could write a Paradise. Poem. I knew you were electric when I saw your symmetry. Wheel-barrows to electricity, poem to poem, back to back we were. We are architecture and collaboration. We will die immensely. Dedicated to sun worship pen glory. I love your taste in movement.
Anything for beauty, Anything for beauty.
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Listen. Cut the linguistic tropes already. If I hear one more cliché I’m gonna shave my head into twelve lines, dye ‘em with bleach and tide, then I’m gonna make you view yourself from the sidelines til you forget you have a face. Listen. If I SEE one more Tesla X——I might have to buy one.
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If She’s drowning, I’m CPR. Class of ’08. I turn into mesh when she’s around. Shadows and ocean dark. But she can see us. I think She can see us I think she can see me! I want her to see the lights! Adventures and silk balloons zooming past palm trees and people, playgrounds and pictures. The way she captures light…
She
Is
Spectacular.
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Approach me oblique. Come at me cryptic. Say trap six times, See what happens.
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The Things Of Thinking
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bone-backed. Racing my heart—racing thoughts of clearness and complicated karma. Good karma. You’re the best karma I’ve ever had. There, I said it. Dharma done. Atman clean. My soul lacks you I need your stars to crash into me Light me up I’m a building. I’m-a building. I’m-a building up to something, trying to tell you Somewhere— I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re beautiful. You’re a different poem every day.
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Take a chance at proximity in this hard-to-find sky– despite your wish to appear without emotion you remain backless and beautiful. More and more than vulnerable your heart still desires One More Mind Yet the dream never ends. And I am concerned at its presence– hoping it will remember how to end soon because I don’t want to lose your mind. I like what it sees. I like the words in your stories so scientifically brand new. I decide to focus on the honesty– but I get stuck inside raspy conversations dropping water droplets down my throat just to see what happens next Concerned for our constant damage. Wearing nothing but rings. Promising you every one of my moments While making sure the second-hand sings.
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Let’s form a dyad in honor of all soul-mates. We can focus on the forthcoming of July–and the limiting of speed. Watch birds fly over their own water, and lasso clouds down to our height so we can walk around with them. This will remind us to float. Force us to examine the only picture that matters–the big one. Breed moments of meaning. Create a life worth feeling. Worth filming. Be prepared to scream. To live. To fly. Make sure “everything” knows how much it means to you. Be sure of your beauty, all of it–because in the end, this is all you have. This is all you needed all along.
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Just drop me dead, gorgeous. It’s the last thing left to do. The constant lull of your beauty never leaves. Where are you? You’ve left the chess board but you never stopped moving me. But it is time to say check, now–and I am the last king cornered–funny how the knights move in L’s. Knock me down hard blue eyes, because I believe in checkmate.
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She Is The Sea
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I think someone’s been playing monopoly with my genes again. Anyhow, as I was saying it: It's yr air... Or your shadow I could never choose between the two who would Idk it sings into me it doesn't hurt when I hear it The Feathers were never included but I'd buy them anyway where have all the gentlemen gone I have their dapper dan. I think somebody’s been playing monopoly with my genes again... I can't play pool, and their leading me on with lipstick red red everywhere making a bloody trail swirling whirling never mind my morning it's none of your business I certainly MIGHT have your affairs in order dont forget this, Adèle, I've worked my entire life for you.
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And I'd choose you Over immortality. Skeleton to skeleton-- I like the sound of breaking. But I swear I'm good to bones. Factor in the werewolf, He wont howl unless we do. Send in the salutations Send them some of me Part mermaid in a glass pitcher Pour me out if that's what you're Gonna do. I'd rather drain than Draw some card. I'm not afraid of karma. I'm afraid of what comes after.
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Instead I will focus. I'm going to focus on fierceness And bombing my own body-- To rid myself of hurt.
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The bright light is honorably mentioning to me that THIS light shouldn't be much longer. Apparently I have what it takes to hypnotize, whatever that means. I like the sound of it, so I repeat it to myself three times until it becomes my mantra.
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Kiss MORE Than The Girl...
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Just remember that the clock always wins; its got three hands.
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Lately I’ve been missing someone I've never met. I’ve been... chasing Ohio name plates On highways while listening to something far, far away Feeling my past invade my throat on their way to the stars And my tears falling off my cheeks like nothing had ever happened Eyes redder than the weeping willows that fill what's left of my second heart And I'm crying. And I'll be crying for a little while I'm not done here I'll never be done here.
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I’m sorry I couldn’t complete your heart.
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I have a violence inside me. You may not have guessed it bt the way I read Maya Angelou in the corner but it’s there, I do. On my run now. Thinking what if I turned it into THE run. I don’t need to be here. But she’s here… I’m parting ways now. NO more time or space for an influx of change. Suppose I loved you. Suppose I should. I know I could. Bak into my run. The sun sets into shoulders and I sprint the last 300 feet until I can no longer write inside this diary.
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You said:
“You are beautiful and poison all at the same time”
I SAY:
As your poison. As your person. As your perfect. Friend. Elixir. As yourself. As beautiful as you can remember. As far back as I can reach. As your enemy. As your classic. As your moment. Erased haphazardly in the sun. Left to travel on. Left to spit on. As your other hand. As your morning coffee drips into the middle of the night and onto your rocking chair, dreaming of beauty--not as poison, but as far back as you can imagine-- see me there. Into the glow that you remember. As my poison. You are missing. As far back as I’ve been believing I’ve been a believing in things of your specific nature. As your poison. As your elixir. And entire life awaits. As your last embrace.
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Meditation camps. Harmony of luck Orchestrating acerbity of mind numbing poetry too young to be reminded of a time before theirs– Role-model Folks, taming Russian talent training human heroes while I challenge my home at night Pacing… for more impact. Dynamically involved with the complexity of restoration created by the lines in your words. Depict anything, my best friend, and I will be there listening for influence wishing to steal more of my breaths I shall sustain coma. Grouping pools of reflection learning now my father’s voice telling me of his fatherland telling me childhood stories of how he swam with sharks on la gonave. Of gingerbread houses– caribbean pink, aquamarine green, folk-like fairy tales leaving us Lasting Some place along the line of Peace: watching music become prose. Reconfiguration of the human mind left Panting like a piano piece ending in the middle of a minor sixth.
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I gave you eight matches. You used seven to abandon me. I saved the last one just in case I want to go too. O, I miss you when I speak. When I laugh it isn’t me it’s you You came back. You came back loud while I tried to yell you don’t need arms to Hug me Looking at your lips is love enough to live in life on docks with no legs in water with no reflection we’ll come back loved. Hands splashed together in holy holy the Worthless, uncanny their cars and how they always match my socks Just right on the time, Just slight sort of stolen Sexy in your best words Perfect in your prose.
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How do you feel about this?
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I love the sound of your bones and Talking is not retro Neither is love Or films that feature love I've got a headache I've got a headache full of stardom And woes, misty fires and 50 seconds of thrill I still hear those three words and you--you made them more delicate than I've ever heard Your whisper is a killer Kill me again "Trust me", I say "I know how to die." Next up I drive by the front yard Where three boys are always playing catch, I notice the quarterback this time he pauses before he throws the football and suddenly I see the man he will become A light turns on He's in the waiting room at the hospital waiting on the arrival of his first born He's all right He's only crying He's all right He's only crying Later I wake up from a nap And the same little boy whispers to me I watched the right side of your triangle disappear but it will come back As long as you laugh As Long As You Laugh
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There will be no dreaming in this house. Dreaming is for people who build things in their minds but never break earth. Zero pollution and no noise. Absolutely no noise. Dreaming's for my Only One. Friends the size of my hand. Dreaming is for timeless beauties and gleaming skin-- pricey concrete and forgotten snow ripped apart by fire. Dreaming is for that snow. For people who get run over-- by their own friends.
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“I think it pisses God off when you walk through a field of flowers and do not notice the color purple.” -Alice Walker
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for Robyn
let's lay our bones to rest, my friend.
This dust has been collecting Us for days now And Our days are years.
No beginning Or ending It is always four AM Where we are It's always four AM
Lay your bones to rest My friend
You're gonna Dance yourself To death
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Ginesthoi
Let it be done the way A kiss shocks the body. Let it be done the way Alchemical the young bloke holds me True to score ad makes me laugh as though i werent war blanket to the body
Healer of all touch. let it be done, I say As I watched Coconut seed become palm tree
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It came to me in a math problem. Thought the storm was shining Only to find out my eyes were blue. True, grey has it's strengths, But blue will in all ways be my most coveted color. I don't mind that it's covered me up all of these years, I don't mind that it takes up The entire sky I don't mind That it turns purple When it sees red I don't mind That it's true.
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46 I don’t know about you but when I drink flowers I feel relaxed. Because if I were a Flower, you’d find my floating in Every stream! I like too many things. And I feel too fast…and I fall in love sideways—and can never find my way out. Yesterday you asked me if there was anything I could not live without having--- I did not know how I wanted to answer that. But I know now. But I know how! It is My Sweet Dreams Tea. It doesn’t work, but it’s warm and makes me rot in all the right places. One night I was so tired I woke up with water in my mouth! I had forgotten to swallow it. Like the tiny melodies we were born with. Lift those words, god dammit! I need to see them at eye level. It is the only way. I don’t want no time for nostalgia—I want to be so busy my body starts crumbling. Sounding—like the tiny Melodies we were born with. Wrap me up in them. I can keep a broken promise if you swear you’ll tell my secret. But
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I woke up with you on my lips. So I spoke you. You were on fire when I saw you. So I ran after you so I could join you in flames and place a ring on your finger so we could finally dematerialize in love. Yes, no, truly. Hello, I’m here. Hello I love you. You told me a few promises I must provide, right before we left you said: “ Speak to me clearly. You must kiss me solid – and pull the wind right out of me. One picture must be taken each year. It will be on Christmas. Not because of anybody’s birth but because you look best on Christmas morning. You look better every day. You must promise to follow me even if we become unconscious, I will promise you we will be right back. You must read me to sleep each night, the beautiful things, even if you only thought them once. If you and I could have kids together we’d be in charge of Angels; which would make us archangels, which would make you mine.
\2
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To go nowhere all dressed up --
That's what this feels like. Probably not, It will not be. okay that's,
Enough. I've got magic to solve!
To dance with you I'm not so sure
Can I
Go home
To you now?
Never, never. Nevertheless, You are strong enough to keep this. This is YOUR secret. I can't be your SECRETary anymore. I don't mean that, I don't mean that, but you are very much too pretty. Must stop my watch. Must stop our seconds. It's too bad because this must have been brutal. This bruise is a bookstore. Your mind is not the issue. I'm so sorry and you're so very beautiful. I'm so sorry and you're so very beautiful.
I'll be going now. Hurts to know me. Going now because.
It's over. Over and over the way Rimbaud taught me to see the shapes in other people's feelings, to take the better route, 4060 along Highway great GOODNESS, I love this! How ABOUT that, I love it! I love this I love the SPIRIT of the palm trees and the hit of the coconuts the parking lot tr
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I love what I see. A pink sky interrupted by A pink hues Pink blinks A rainbow Stunning overhead I run to keep My tears in tact To keep them inside Maybe later Must keep going Must keep breathing Don't go faster Keep believing You love what you see. You love what you see. You love what you see. I try and convince myself mile four euphoria setting in and even through my stinging skin my whole thought for the rest of the night would be: "I love what I see."
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How do you spell God? One summer I tried.
Sat on a three foot tree stump Grabbed a hammer and nailed my femurs down. Quickly forgot my fitzpatrick skin type. Got Lost in the red rivers of my sins. What sins? I’m not a problem... I am problematic. No. I am a problem. No. None of these will do. Help me winnow this down, shall you? Maybe. Okay, here it will be: “It’s simple; I’m complicated.”, I say.
In walks my good friend Cal, “We all have complications, Addie,” “But Calvin, you’re so Klein! Your name is wrapped around angels!” “Relax,” he says, “They’re just bones.” He looks down at my femurs. I don’t say sorry. I do not shrug. I just ask him if he can solve me. To which he responds, “Yes, easy. Become the number zero.”
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She spends her time dreaming of the space in between people. If it is something real she can keep track of. As if it were the seventh wonder of the world, now, is it? She is getting sick again. She knows this because she has been happy for too long. There is karma in her throat. Pardon the way it scratches. She tells herself to keep quiet, to remain lost, and speak her easiest.
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I doubt the Nile river says Excuse me When it splits you into two Like a Montessori cube Did you know you were only Primary colors? Did you know I had to stop Playing the violin because I shook Too much Blame it on the medication Blame it on my genes Blame it on cupid Or perfect misery Pinpoint my pinafore Roll your rugs up tight Locate the metaphor Before I lose my fight.
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Let me tell you a story Let me tell you the story You see, He, His choice of exercise was lifting The sea, Yes, He has mastered the art of defiance His muscles at ease He must be one of the hundreds Who have not one disease He’s my roaring shelter To me he brings no harm Just sea salt and A mermaid’s voice Of which to cherish And to match my violin Strings to, to whom all my regards Are sent to He is my whisper. As loud as he is soft. He is my son And he protects me He is my sun and He surrounds me Because he knows What I did for nine months and Every day since then He knows I would protect him – Even if it meant my life no longer. My breath is his no argument My love, it stands on its own. As for my treasure She is still sleeping So please be soft, be soft.
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I was boney in my youth. Truth is, I still am. I just wanted to be dramatic. Exaggeration suspends the end of time. I am most in peace in melodrama. The only way to befriend Karma is by being kind.
This is as far as I’ll go.
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Is it like water. Is it like Ocean. Is it like falling in love.
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And then there were the days I wouldn't let the sun inside me. Too happy. Too color. Too much energy. And tell the coroner that I must be wrapped in French translation. For my father’s sake. And to cradle me in an Irish flag—for my mother, with creole chatterings written around the edges, for my father’s father. Allow me to mean it when I say my last words, which will be dedicated to the girl who danced for her pact with the color green that laces all nature. Goodbye.
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Paint me whole world. Find the one cloud left in my spite tres bon. too good… As in what Katherine Hepburn’s voice sounded while she spoke of Abe Lincoln Yes, true, I lied—— that kind of beauty– a hammer to the heart. Yes, true, I cried—– let’s play chess on the stars! they’re so close in the milky way we can each have our own let us go. Let us leave move your knight wear your cake-cracked ballet shoes pitched so black 90 miles per hour I am outside of the lines near that fire escape where I begged you to save me. You refused touch. You refused touch for so long I don’t even know what science feels like anymore. Something about me having actual power. Something about crumble. Something about my power, but BABY—– WHAT is more alive than a million little pieces?
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Driving.
Thinking of the lumps I cannot swallow.
The sun covets one half of my faith.
I'm a complication; it's simple.
You couldn't get me to sleep if you killed me.
I'm one red eye away from enlightenment.
Please don't take the sun from my room.
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And if I could take pictures of my moods, I would, but they would not fit into frames. Always, it is always my eccentricities versus the world and its formalities. It’s the quintessence of my quiet that scares you.
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“Hush,” I said
Look at what she chooses. Forget about her shoes.
Look at how they are nothing like her.
Look at how they sing.
Notice how she doesn’t smile –
at everything.
Bruises crawl across
her loving skin –
they look like sets of phrases.
She must get in a lot of
fights
with fate.
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I was airport tired. Nine hours looking out of a bus window into the forest green—does a number on ya. I could use your hug now. I haven’t any blankets, and you’re lovelier than most things anyway. Come then. Come now. On Bernard Shaw’s plan you can write five novels in five years. No way to know if they’ll be great or not, but I trust you will know yourself well, and fleeting. It is no unfamiliar happening that heroin, and heroine—are just one letter apart. There is something else in their smiles…. In your outer-most spine. Reaping hegemony over your guarded heart. O belief! O contrar!
Love in a seashell. Seek our your ears. O smile everyone, it is over. I don’t mean to be iconoclastic, but the bible is of no use to the modern world. Leave it for the afterlife behind us. Following us. Not one Need to hide your viscidity anymore, behold---------------------------------
Volition.
I writhe for you. I twis
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It's not your fault you see x’s where everyone else see o’s. That your rings fly off when you try to skip rocks. That you still daydream of being dragged through the Great Lakes by your Left earring. That you daydream. That you can't drink. Don't think. Thinking makes you lean. Too lean. Poor thing. She's on her 12th mile already. Look at her go— pray for her bones. Why is she smiling? Maybe she likes the pain. Maybe she likes the drain. Wonder if she knows they named that bridge after her. She passes it every day. I heard she believes everybody hates her. I heard her moms a Saint. I heard her play piano once. Saw the strength in her face. I heard she left on purpose. With a pen in her hand. With a tune on her breath. I heard half of her stayed. I heard half of her did not want to go.
It's not your fault you see o’s where everyone else sees x’s. She says, “it's not fair to want things after trying to give everything away.” I feel t
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Was it worth it? Was it worth the $200 dollars, was it worth the 20 hours of captioning? Was it worth your lips? Was it worth the cancer? Was it worth the tips? Was it worth your mother? Was it worth your world? Who are you now are you
Is it worth the havoc. Is it worth the wreck? Things I’ve asked myself after/before self-sabotage.
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But she was nothin' like mother said she'd be. These things I say will not be delivered. Her blue looks sinister grey in this post mercy photograph. Or blistering blue. I can't tell you how much she loves you. Drinking coffee on the count of one and two she's dancing again. Thank goodness she kept her words warm in many places in case of emergency, sing her name. In case of emergency, sing her name.
(The prettiest girl you know)
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My God must have been out sick the day I was forced to kiss the abyss. Morality suffers when eyes are wet and aching. "They're f***ing tortured." ...She was talking about my eyes. So I took my arm and muscle pumped my signature into the second step of my stairs and tree carved my literature in the backyard and called it, "working on my life." You laugh and ask me what does, "working on your life even mean?" I knew then my hearts were too strong for you, too red and too blue. You lack empathy, and it's disgusting. I am not perfect. Nor do I wish to be but I would never ask someone to explain why they're not me.
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A message to YOU. Yep, you.
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She was pretty on the wet-eyed way. God— I love honest features.
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The universe is nothing but droplets if you think about it lonely enough.
I am Lonely enough To celebrate A box of tissues
Lonely enough To build a bridge Out of matchsticks Because the little moments Of red simplify the strength in me Because the tiny stretches of red Symbolizes effect
To me
The universe is nothing but a little more than T h a t.
I love Without Knowing
. And I can't tell what I love about that . Except that it's excellent, expansive, and I hope your mother can learn to love me like that.
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I was fine before the pheromones. Your hands made a maze out of my tendons let the ants out of my ligaments switch places head and thighs switch places my turn to experience your spine breathe the music hum this movement using your head, hips and hair BREATHE don't know anything BREATHE I can't talk about it. My knees locked and loaded, eyes closed begging to worship your body you had minnows in your stomach I knew it even before you rubbed the shark out of my neck.
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It’s all love really.
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It's a poem not a construct. I need reminding. Or do they? Writing to be focused. Having an affair. Pinning you down on a map and guess what, I'm X. But I don't think I'm treasure, no, not yet. I’m a Poem, not a construct.
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Now I am dancing. Now I am back. Back at our standard Back in our hour Where we danced Like it was the end of our movie. Where you danced Like it was the end of our movie. Where we danced Like it was the end of our movie. Life was her movie and it was only Thirty-two years long Life is a movie and it’s only so many years long. So by ALL MEANS, SCREAM. 3 thousand times Less the hair on A woman’s body. More the love she will have for her First born, second born, Third, fourth, and beyond this Greater than he length of this, The Last Night. Colder than I am when When my nerves take their rest Rest their break, break they do. When my doors slam then close. One more inch of snowfall Left behind then each day. And hereafter, Glad to escape these red dead eyes Making sure they lead with their Sharp Side. My shoulders jolt and I scream for my Darling— Wondering, how long will this one be?
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And I don't know maybe you saw me as just a 32nd note or sixteenth but you were a whole note complete with a (birds eye) fermata
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Grew up in a family town. I remember collecting basketball cards, not that I knew anything about it. I just liked the sound of the word “collection”. Then I tried Pokemon for a while. Then Pog. Remember that game? I liked it because it made me feel like I was one of the older kids. I also felt like I left the world every time I played. I still remember holding the pieces. They felt so perfect in my hands. They reminded me of UFOs and perhaps that’s why it always felt so otherworldly. It was not until later that I found out collecting is not necessary and that it is possible to love just one thing. This was right about the time I learned that a noun was a person, place, or thing. So I changed my mind about loving, and decided it was possible to love a noun so much you don’t want another. And I called it the end of worry.
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Strangely great mood today. Was it yesterday’s coffee or a 3 mile talk around fine lines and a boat, lip red but missing a sail. Maybe it was because I Laughed with someone I got pulled out of a practice room after six hours of Puccini. “You can come back to this later,” She says. It was a perfect walk. We said things we’d never say had it not been for that lake. “A boat is a boat is a boat is a boat. Are we boats? We float. We sink. We have motors. What’s the difference?” I say. We kept laughing and rising and spoke louder than architecture which was like catching the number 22. because we are the quietest people I know.
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Son, I’ve seen it all. Cigarette stalls and bombed Barbie dolls orange shoes with orange laces I’ve seen it all At one time it was deadly To look someone in the eyes Still is in some places They let joy marry tragedy. O yes I’ve seen it All at once I started taking smiles seriously My life began. So please, my love, I’m going to ask you once more to move the camera from in front of your face I want to be able to say That I’ve seen it all.
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Meet me at the top of the mountains so we can scream like the lunatics that we are. After that we can talk poker–and even out all our dreams. We’ll buy a boat and carve poems into the ocean til our blood turns blue. Without you, I would’ve never known of my urgency. Without you, I would’ve never found so much beauty. Without you, I’d still be so sad. Do you know how many words you are?! One hundred and seven poems and counting. The other day at the bar we talked about what we would do if one of us died. If you died————————— Id be in the hospital–because I screamed so long and loud past the sky that I passed out on the way. When I woke up and I asked what happened they would tell me the truth– that the love in my life had died. My knees would be red and raw because of the way I’d be weeping– I’d keep collapsing, and collapsing, and collapsing, and collapsing, and collapsing, and collapsing
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it has been 23 years and I am still searching stone for rock. (this is body language for "need to love") Before I made it through one year of breathing-- I spilled paint on the front of my body that said, "Next On the Cross" You know, I like tea. But I don't need it all over me. That's the difference between you and tea.
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So I told the angels I’m not coming back
And they gave me two more bodies.
And that’s how I became three people.
We have identical staircases, my bodies.
And it is wonderful to know that
You think I’m perfect
And it is wonderful to know that
You think I’m beauty
You think I’m talent
Baby give me your blue print
So I can build you back up
Again I never want to see his chemicals
In your eyes again
I want to see you love free
Just let me get my angels
Just let me go just let me go just let me go
Your kiss is too perfect
Your kiss is too perfect
I stumble out of cars now,
Can hardly touch my lips now,
Hey, you left your electricity
Hey, you let your light out
It’s all over me.
I can see everything now in Actually.
And you know actually, you’ve touched actually.
Yes I know the valley aches
Easy.
I don’t know you might be right
Now I know the texture of your heart.
No wonder it loves forever.
How would I know how the so
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I wish I could speak to you in chemical words. Secretive. Our chemical lexicon would be harmonious! Downright wholesome, and lovely. It would be beyond breathable! Inescapable! Unmistakeable! To us, to us.
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Your eyes surround me like light not yet lifted out of me. the kind that passes me. You become a star every morning at 2.30 AM. I have not seen it but you burn me whole again. We're gonna pick a splendid fight in Thailand, you and I. It may be a stalemate And I may look like a faded flag for you but I'm looking at your face now - not one line on it. You must slumber so well. Teach me how you do that. Teach me how you say that. I will dream with you. The next day I found myself in the middle of 90 degrees, the Texas kind. Across from what I think was an eighty maybe ninety year old woman. I know I was supposed to know her but I didn't…who could blame me? I am only twenty years old. Sixty years have not followed me yet so I don't understand the things that fall from her closed mouth. All I want to do it ask her if she knew that her eyes were pure violet… Peculiar violet… especially with original skin like that. I wonder if she knew. I wanted to talk to you
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Feathered muscle. Ever seen it? All I will say is it’ll make you second guess what you did with YOUR day. Because you know--the only way to achieve this on a human body is if the person who possesses the feathering of the muscles has successfully mastered their body.
The feathering of the muscle can only happen with extreme conditioning.
Day
After
Day
After
Day
After
Day
After night
After night after
Night after day.
Hours and thousands of fights and conquests and conquistatadors! Fight those awful demons aren’t you mad you never fought your own demons? Let’s get it done! And the short-full of life. The first time I saw it I almost cried. They looked like wings in his back.
I just wanted something equally as present to present to my world. Something to signify my dedication.
So I kept on running. Dreaming of the people bounded up by hatred and bitterness and how caged they must feel, how imprisoned-- but they’d never admit it. And I thought
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I’m not depressed right now, I’m actually in really great spirits but it’s very frustrating when I’m in a conversation with somebody that doesn’t believe in depression or thinks it’s a weakness or feigned sickness. This is my attempt at explaining how depression feels... _____________________________You’d be amazed at how many buildings I fell off today, how many grounds I almost grabbed how many times I almost made myself the candle the melted the inevitable collapse that follows a successful run. another thing I cannot celebrate it hurts to be standing– even worse laying down it’s like I’m being force-fed my own heartbeat I don’t like it. I don’t like it. You’d be amazed by my brain… how it tells me to leave no directions just—— leave.
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She taught me that I was love. Yet she had never met me, or heard me. Or seen my flesh in real time, minute by shaking minute in my own tremble. It’s never on purpose, I swear. I am always just a little bit afraid, I don’t think it’s anybody’s fault. I think I’ve a frantic mind. She has started to notice, I can hear her getting frightened—she is talking craziness now. She’s not stopping and I can’t keep up with her. So I get down on the ground and do nothing but listen to her. Everything else now is not there anymore. It is these moments I want more of, the ones we never realize. The happening. I know now, how to allow myself to believe that there are no worries, to focus only on THIS, the moment. Things imagined are almost always heightened. It’s called synthetic dreaming, or “synthetic happiness”. Everything is slightly or horrifically colorful and perfectly paced. Out of bounds and out of reality. So you see, I know that there c
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Told you to meet me on a roof
because I wanted to see you in the air.
I never knew you were sky.
Teach me how to be so many colors
in twenty-two hours
and the last two:
how to enter
dreams.
Give me your gaze.
Go ahead,
Give me the bullet.
Fuck the rope.
I miss my home.
I miss my shape.
All form,
it’s preposterous.
I know we are more.
I know I am dead.
You pretend that you’re sure
Trying to kiss my lips
With your heart still in jail.
We’ve been so close it’s evil.
Meanwhile I am left to feel
alone
forced to watch you
Splitting stars for fun.
With your devil hands.
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I can see you now. You’re in the middle of a pile of flowers. Purple. I’m guessing your face is relaxed and pleasant. You don’t want to get out. You like reaching for sun. You like the green of the air, the purple stains on your chest, neck, and thighs. You like to be the cause. Your beauty is disrupting-- I’m going to panic if I don’t get this done. Stop. It. Please go away. My heart is not steady. My paths are not paved. My mind is a weakness. I’m going to panic – if you come my way. Your beauty, it unnerves me. And your soul, it’s too kind. I want to put you on film, but I’m afraid to be alive. I want to put you in a ballerina box only to open you in quiet moments. Your sound will fill and warm me. Your dance, I’ll feel in my toes. And when you look to me I lose my words. When you leave I start a new chapter. If you stay I couldn’t go. If I see you I’m going to panic. So if I die promise me you’ll still marry me. Th
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I still love you.
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It still makes me smile.
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Siren starts. Your name like fire. Froze the wind. This door needs locking. Isn't what I saw. I am a movie. I am a moving thing. I move things. You are a movie. You are a moving thing. You move things. you saw my monster. Hugged the death out of me. That door needs locking. Yes, okay, but it isn't what I've seen. I saw a great movie. It was you and me. Kiss me around every corner. Night like the dawn saw you like snow I saw you compulsively. This heart needs a locket. Like the hand inside of a wedding ring.
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Let’s dance.
I’m feeling natural and bleak
Let’s dance.
I’m awfully tremendous.
I am just joking—
I’ve got a backpack full of bricks
bring your body to battle.
bring your body to battle.
this isn’t us you are fighting
you are fighting yourselves.
Save me some survival
and remember
Poems
Are never useless.
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I talk to people you know
Your friend is a marvel.
Says she has a collection of collar bones
Hidden in her bedroom drawer right next
to the promise that she gave to herself
I say those things are simply Beautiful
My friend tells me not to lead the flock astray
But I would—never—they inspire clearly with their ever-circular reverie
I could not; pigs bite and I don’t emerge in that kind of
Pain.
Because you are distinguished
shift shape and conquer
Like the monsters we hope to be
A singular heartbeat, seek the structure inside
Seek the structure inside
I have heard that vibrant love gets you mangled,
but under superb lighting
Every one notices you’ve become iron.
Strong in your red boots, strong in your
Start.
Agreed. Success is measured by unconquerable prose
Dripping with horrible resin from the outer banks of the sun. The
Swamp is a corridor and we must find its inception to know how to exit.
Dream up
a century.
Hands in the fire. Walk into
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Musings on the word, “yes”
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But if I had a building—-for every time you took my mind from me—- I’d be New York City by now.
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I’m like that one birthday candle that won’t abandon it’s flame; I’m like that one birthday candle that won’t accept the flame.
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She’s got the water in her eyes—Thirty-three radiation treatments proud. Everything is so real here – I do not get it. The kids are so fleshy and precious, and They haven’t any moments. The grass is so soft and one whole color. There Are kids in cages – smiling. I walked in a lap and caught a bubble inside My hands. Felt like Nothing. There were wrestling over a god –damn penny. The kids. There were puppets with boots on. Electric trains trying to sell me a muffin for one dollar. I had the most sparkling water in my hands. There was hope written in lights not yet Switched on. I still felt it. There were toys lying on the grass, probably thirty years Old, in perfect assembly lines— perfect for an east kill. They were still and stoic. Like my grandmother, the one who helped me rise, my father’s mother, the best one he had. You are not here to ask me, so I’m just going to answer you right now. To truly know someone, you must start at their
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You are blonde like sun hit you. I know there’s rage in you somewhere. But you’d never go looking for it. It will come about when love defeats you. For now—play a lovely game of chess. The numbers help. The movement helps. Silence happens. Like glass versus marble. Find me after checkmate. Celebration will be in order and we can celebrate arm through measly arm. I have already chosen a volume. I have already drafted all of the right cards. You will not believe the punctuation marks, coming from my face! I will most definitely shake your hand.
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| To Frida Söderdahl | There is this instant where I am thrown into the air. I wasn’t prepared for this. No one is, it’s magic. There is this instant where performers are thrown into the audience and back into their magic. I look at my friend who knew voices were music before being marked beauty. who knew people who dance with nothing but their toes. And when asked why they are not them and they are not themselves they just have to be. They are happiest When lit on the spot We are just alarm clocks Give us our assignments Tell us when to sound There is this instant where the audience is thrown onto the stage and back into their magic. There’s music in the theatre. I know this because I was The audience until I was thrown Into the air and back into their magic I have no heart so I wasn’t worried about The theft but it was so loud I could Leave and still hear them in her sleep I wish I did not love. But I am here so I love. I look at my friend directly
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If emeralds came in grey, and were layered and cat-like and patient and reliable and worth-it-all and omniscient and rapturous and okay and dying and living and nervous and pacing and dangerous, well,
those would be your eyes.
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You write like a poem sounds.
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You wanna know what I liked!?
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Watch a woman breathe and you’re born again. Nothin’ like it. Everything stops for beauty. I watched them. They brought the sea to the ground, just like the original plan! One for the crashes! Better than a thunderstorm at nighttime. Moved. Completely was I moved, to tears was I moved. You would have enjoyed the Effrontery. You would have laughed with the madness. Nodded like an angel. You Would have nodded like the angel that you are. You would have grabbed my hand and ran like the forest. Ran like forests you and me? We could be Gorgeous. The same way you should look at the world from under a three foot truck. Yea, that’ll teach you to cherish your atman. That’ll teach you to swim less in that ocean. Danger, danger, love me now. That’s what we say to each other while we are asleep. I know we do. ‘Your color enters a room before you do.’ I heard those words over the radio earlier that morning. I believe it. …whole heartedly so.
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You worry you don’t have a language With your whole body of Passion.
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Easy Rest. Lucky. Fortunate fortune. I PASSED THE TEST. With crooked candles in messy mirrors with deaf direction in the woven west. My woven west. With your faulty faucets and your Healing Hell I can’t stand it I need a perfect hero. Hero hapless and naked nearness in the summer season beach in a bottle looking lonely I’ll be breaking budgets Robbing Reno now I have an open office. I am young youth I am closing the chapter on you. Book’s over. Book’s clean. Worry not. He had a great dream. 95 years strong. Nothing died. Just me too, us. Us me Us you Quiet Queen. Ultra Utopia. Battered Beam. Best when Bound. Fighting for Fiction. For a perfect hero. For a perfect choice. For a perfect purpose. And lucky, Easy Rest.
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Prognosis: she’s a goddamn liar. And a proficient one at that. Look, son, It’s all in the squint, LOOK! Don’t bother moving, she’s already inside you laughing like a time-bomb inside the joker–like potent young love using “yes” words to form acts of violation that can only be seen by lovers and by lovers who mean it I mean really mean it–guaranteed to die alive, expecting everything from the return and also maybe a little more room to perform the one act play they’d been screaming along all across time, to analyze every gaze on all the tiny little faces— and there it was and it was and it was everywhere and inside every trace their could be and every single body who spat cracked laughed got back up cracked laughed got back up and RAN———————————run! you good for something awful filth,——— you scum-scabbed freak of romanticism, so much class in your left hand right hand
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She floats. Even at the restaurant where she works nights and some days everyone else is greased like pigs and piglets but there she is behind the counter--floating. She’s a cure (the perfect cure) and hour-after burns that could have been serious but never rose to the occasion. She’s got those, been there, done that, sort of freckles. The kind that are scattered about, just a few, perfectly strewn across the face. They don’t yell or scream, they are just little bits of sun settled in all the right places. They are just sun that happened to fall into the right places. Even they float. I wonder if anyone else sees her. Am I alone? I’m still in line at this point and I can’t stop thinking: “Who is going to believe me?”
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I am a sad sad bluebird; she is fashion. A visionary beauty-unit. She also writes words. But they do not look like My words. Better that way. Hey! Two Whole Halves. I get it now. I understand now. Perfect.
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When people say, “So tell me about yourself?”
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I didn’t lose it until she left. I keep photos of the people I’ve loved to see if there’s a pattern. I expect more out of morning than I do out of night. I’m a dying animal. I like my flesh spread and my neck choking, and I like my eyes on you. Fixed. Slaughter-watch. Bite your love in me. Throw me into your river, and I will swim with every part of me. I never really told the truth until that moment I watched you Ending. I knew then that I was not a ghost. I knew then I wanted to be branded. By your scent and your smile. Put your love somewhere in there, too. Deep so I have to search.
This is as far as I’ll go.
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I’m in class now. I stare down at the bones in my hands. I think forty pounds are now gone. I’ve been running lately. It is solitude. It is nervous. They are so bony. I sit and search, trying to find traces of my parents in them. So far I haven’t found anything. But I will keep searching. Perhaps that is why my mom wanted me to play the violin. So I'd use my hands, so I would think about them. I remember the first time I found out I had them. I was two years old. The second time it happened to me I was walking through a hall at college with my brother. He said to me - “it's the human touch.” After that I could not stop looking at them! I called my mother crying! Later that night I imagined we spoke on the phone that night and you’d ask me how my heart was doing and I’d say, “ She’s fine. A little blustery.”
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Run to me, run me to the part where you become my lover and friend—-I will promise you with the precision of the needle in your eye that devoured betrayal bottom to top like the sky when it’s handled perfectly, a messy blue of perfect, like the eyes of an enraged goddess. Me? I would have given my sun, my brightest cry–in the wilderness in front of every tree and it would sound like dreams where you awaken to nothing but muted storms and you can’t see because light isn’t happening and you try to remember being born but it doesn’t work that way,it doesn’t work that way recall recollection, recall the blinks of your eyes, now train them to blink 5,000 times faster–it will be impossible if you don’t try. Easy as it is to open your fists and surrender to time did you not think for a moment that I would not miss your eyes your complexity the sensitivity of your soul and what this feels like! our love! Life Love! the music we faded into between vi
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The baby’s hands are wrapped around
My finger. Does she know how safe I am—
now?
Now that she’s here, now that I know her
I’ll say:
Dearest daughter,
I am complete with surrender
I’ve never
held treasure but
I’ll never need to now.
And if you promise to shoot me I’ll
Leave this denial—manic, depressed
Draw two lines on opposite sides
Of the country and
You’ll find me in the middle between manic and depression
This is silly this is silly this is silly this is silly
They are just atrocities mixed up with
Better atrocities. Only a fool would
Dutifully serve those chemicals.
Don’t you dare speak my Name.
Show your faces.
Harbor, convalesce, my closest contemporaries. Have some enticing, explicit
Divinity.
It is
Gut wrenchingly radiant
To think,
I would be gone now
But it takes so much breath to conclude
So I just live on live through and weep right.
Get branded from time to time
It’s a sign
of
The divin
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Listen here, mad girl.
Don’t you live where the walls
Watch you never eyes shut
All is open doorways into your
Marrow afraid of the cancer in
Your socks sometimes you are
Silly sometimes you are not
Sometimes you are the villain
Other times you’re the dot
In the middle of the target
That’s on the back of my neck
Asking how can I get all the
Way around to her
Sometimes, I feel the pain in three places.
Christian! Hand me another cross.
I wanna learn from my stigmata
a brush with blood
I like anything in series
Sometimes,
you’re dying.
Other times you’re screaming
Always at something you can’t even see.
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Love wrapped me up in a faceless sculpture of fraud. Fraudulent faces asked me what I wanted if it and I said just a bump.the next day I woke up in an ancient burial ground home of some Egyptians couldn’t help but think I used to rule these people I used to be a queen. But that was in another sphere... one more year, and I’ll be opened up for love, both hands hanging freely forevermore that is what she said to me that is what she said to me that is what she said to me on the night we did not sleep in the night but in our own love scheduled by our angel s yes we were the ones. We were the ones that raised them this is how they got so high—we are the givers of all balls, embraces of all love, our shadows are made of strength and love dust. Evidently—your love is a syndrome and I want to catch it let me die. Let me die of love. It’s what I want, a white whisper to match in voice and stature it’s a challenge now, elegance is key keep your knees off th
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Give me a heart attack, call it a birthday.
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Keep me out of the light. Keep me out of the light.
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So yes, I am willing to forget about the ocean if it means I get to remember you.
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You looked really pretty today.
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Let’s go!
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Here’s a singsong if mine. Will probably cut this into pieces for use as intros to the podcast in the future. What do you think?? I’ll make the decision tomorrow.
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On this particular day the said girl wore a ribbon in her hair to work and I remember complimenting it and then after work she mentioned that she wore it for me and that she wanted to look pretty for me. So I had to write another letter to her because we obviously couldn’t start anything due to the work situation. O, potential love! Enjoy.
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To clarify, this set of letters that I call “The Shopgirl’s Journals” are written to this girl I was (like) in love with that I worked with once upon a time. After work I’d have to get on my typewriter and write to her because it was too much. Anyway, here I am and here they are :)
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Somewhere... there is a tulip unraveling in order to lend its color to your lips.
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I’m not gonna scream. That’s too easy. Too loud. This is difficult... this is murder. What is this? I feel like there’s a beach in my body when I think about it. Listen, my Waves Never Had Sound Before...
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Intimacy. A hand. Take the palm off. The lines— the heat, it’s intimate. Put it back on. I mean it. The lips have a language all their own. Speak it. Intimacy on her breath, the lion’s here. One more story all along the lines line your palm. I, intimacy! She takes me away with that smile! Yes! Yes, yes!
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This is as far as I’ll go.
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Everything returns to the Moment it was made.
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You taught me laughter and abandon.
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Musings on a Sunday morning
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Adèle here, reporting to you alive with love, all love.
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I was trying to figure out why in the world I was still in love with this girl so I wrote down the word “Because, “ (insert name here) and went from there. I ended up sending it to her and at the time I recorded it just like that with a guitar. I sent it to her and she was like omg that was beautiful why am I crying I feel like you see through me and that she didn’t deserve my art because “who the f*** was she” and anyway, I was happy because it had an effect and I didn’t expect that reaction. I was honestly just writing out of sheer sadness and hopelessness but that’s how I deal with life I make art. So that’s what’s on the end of my fork today, people! Enjoy and let me know what you think and if you’ve had similar situations.
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The Explain Your Name Game
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