After Yesterday

I should never do ecstasy. Though I’ve known this for a while, it was so sharply confirmed by the events of my day I shivered with vindication. I even told myself, I told you so, but the impact was less affecting than I’d imagined it might be. A hot tip: if you know you’re someone... Continue Reading →

Wings

June 2nd: What would my wings be made of? Hard plastic, the fire color of my sunburnt back. Maybe a thin wood, flapping shutters with paint flecks peeling like skin. Where first would I fly? Maybe test how high I could reach towards constellations of the dead and loved. Visit pristine coasts I barely remember,... Continue Reading →

Wadsworth, Jarrell. Revolutionary, 1972. Angela Davis. #BlackLivesMatter

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May 30: We live in a devastation; where anger is only meant to flush the faces that turn pink, the doctrinal color of innocence. “Accidents” “fear” “self-defense” can only shoulder so much blame; we can only carry so many bodies on our backs. We live in a brokenness; our value systems, which were never well-lubed... Continue Reading →

Face

May 26th: Maybe social anxiety is just code for narcissism; AKA I affect the mood of the room, am aware of space I'm taking up. It’s a kind of self-obsession, an uncontrollable penchant for introspection; it could drown us, should we stare too deeply into reflections. As a child, reading myths with my father from... Continue Reading →

Love Online

May 20: Talking to strangers on the internet is cathartic, like consuming reality television, or breaking corn chips with a fat scoop of guac. It’s not that bad for you, and it isn’t hurting anyone. Like stealing from a large retail chain, which you can justify, though it still doesn’t “feel right.” Good things can... Continue Reading →

Fear of the Burning Sun

May 19th: If I'm here for anything, it is to tell you that you're okay. Though you're still hurting, even this long after the last spine was removed from your bleeding side. It's all right to remember the shock and pain, though you may never encounter its kind again, and perhaps needn’t be quite so... Continue Reading →

Morning

May 18 (morning): I had dreams and wake up hot and bothered, breathless under too many blankets. In the last dream, I'd been poking myself with an unpeeled banana. (Though I try not to write about sex, I feel forced to mention this, if only because it may be the least sexually potent fantasy ever.)... Continue Reading →

Writing Every(ish) Day

May 17th (night): I never thought I’d be like those "take it one day at a time" people. I used to love looking towards the future, planning the minutia of all the dumb, fun stuff I would probably never get around to doing. I wanted to see Celine Dion in concert, to weep when she... Continue Reading →

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