Saturday, March 25, 2017

krank

spider webs melted netting all blurring suffocating my sense
zombielike
with spring, uncertainty about what i was going to get done this weekend, and questions.

not sick, sluggish
or actually both.




breezes hinges neighbor downstairs singing the national anthem
next?
more water. more rain? more sleep   if I could spell or think
reading Shirky Spinuzzi Adichie and

should be writing more about it all
next?
listening

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

an inability to remember

I found this typed up in a draft blogpost. probably its from summer 2015 some time. I'm not sure. I didn't want to delete it, though it surely deserves to be deleted. I didn't want to let it just sit there either. so I have elided some of the most desperate keyboard-mashing blubbering and am posting it here, in this dramatic corner of my public writinglife.

ughgh headache.

why can i not focus? it's hot. i'm sleepy. my kitchen...
pie crust and half-finished everything.
zucchini that are dying. 
hate hate hate hate hate
sick sick sick sick sick sighing sighing ay headache ache ache ache ache ache sick sick no no why wait wait so helpless 

wonder think think puzzle stretch reach puzzle cold cold tired? hungry as always and wondering wondering wondering. hurt wondering pain why expectations hope hope want want want want want want want want reciprocation
never, never, not enough not enough not enough it just isn't nothing will be nothing but need deeper endless exaggerating i know stop life is
fine
sigh
no
never
longing longing jealous
angry....
jealous jealous angry hiding biting back waiting hoping laughing. fake. laughing. no real me. no.

so what do i really need? what can i really do? i can study for these exams and i can ignore whoever i want to ignore and i can fix up my apartment and i can get rid of things and i can cook and bake and make messes and eat.
eat all the cheese and cream and tea and scones and cake and brownies and butter and soup and pie and anything you want. you.
hold yourself. hold. do. be.
calm. not not yet not yet not close enough
distract yourself with art and food
but not too much.
exams exams exams.
research and research
oh yeah and pizza dough.

how will there be time? how how?

all sorts of things i'm craving for themselves but also for the associations. japanese hibachi and homemade gnocchi and yes but ugh
ugh
memories. maybe call him anyway?
uggghg.

Tuesday, April 19, 2016

imagining fireflies (early)

angry yesterdays.
expectations so dreamy lofty blue cream perfect. last summer... oh last summer and the incredulous giddy highs. I can conjure echoes of them, just. but in my real skin, my real-now-here self-- it's fear

brokenness. I don't want it to be that way. I don't try to hold on to it do I?

those todays are swimming. draining. me, wallowing. yes.

draft all the emails.
out line and word smith and

Monday, January 25, 2016

morning smelled like a mix of coffee mulch and wet grass. it's supposed to rain. sometime.
I am zoned out
zoned inside out. insides froze, flaking, shaking and shaking while ragepanicfear chips and chisels away at the ice.
voices with nothing but pouts, or lies. muffled either way, too believable. or not believable at all.

Friday, December 11, 2015

(finals)

the clouds look like 
Scandinavia. 

that thought rings around my head again and again. or it did last night anyway, past twilight. carrying boxes. pizza tech from up there over not yet. up write to now now. now. write. 

Sunday, July 5, 2015

stuck sick

do I wish I could erase them

do they need to be taken out of here
out of this me
out from my heart

to make room
so they'll stop catching my breath
blocking my moves

crispy loud, loud firework music. sick fake burnt papers and fuses all scraped strewn in the grass sipping chocolate window reflections not working not yet
crumbs too much sugar pressing hatred old too old too judgy too mournful
pretty flowers. summer lilies, purple weeds, sure whatever

the coffeeshop full of people who are outcast sunday studious why bother talking? let's just yes earphones wall-staring not quite a scowl but tilted unable why bother talking?

Friday, May 1, 2015

I reread that last poemthing backwards. it's not cool enough to really make sense backwards. but I liked it anyway.

stay back
take
onto, into leading into
read you, what thought you
what thought you
what mean didn't that don't
trust.

don't trust.

there's a throat-tightening. a wearying. a maybe-black maybe-blue maybe-dark maybe-grey maybe-nowhere

hope is a curse and I am not inside myself. I am not here.