A REVIEW

what am i doing this for what are we doing this for what is anyone doing this for
dissipating
dispersion
cynics
being cynical
i want to find that love is only for a mountain top.
i would like to be the countess of utopia.

IMPRESSIONISM

hello my name is édouard manet
i can not dance i can not sing i can
not not art
im too crude for optimism and there are too many windows
stop your pose
stop your posing
you know that the way your neck bends and your chin tilts
the way your fingers

hello my name is édouard manet
i have no voice
i can not prance i can not ring i can not
not not
not
im too true for surrealism and there are too many artifacts
stop your prose
stop your prosing
you know that way your back transcends my fingertips and your limbs will wilt
the way your dreams

hello my name is édouard manet
i can not feeling anything any more
i can not open
i can not fear
i can not sleep or create

UNDER SOME SMALL LIGHT

disintegrating into a paper thin paste
seeping
and swirling
and swimming
everything is going swimmingly
over and over the flow of patterns

i dont think about the thinks that you think or thought or the ones that i thought
i think im done with those thinks altogether and so i am left-

with dissolving
repeating
sleazing
sneezing
microscopically digesting
sleek and small
vicariously into your eyes
the hallows of your cheekbones
the space between your closed eyelid and brow
the delicate space

i wonder what is between your arms rightnow

A SIREN

there comes a point when i'm not sure that calories matter anymore. or when you're at a party and you find yourself in the basement with a goat or a ram or some stone statue in the form of a form. smiling because you feel obligated. laughing because you feel sorry. smoking to feel something different. anything different. the reaction of honey in ice water. falling to the bottom. it molds together and forms, glowing. forming glows. i just want you all to know that good people do exist. they are out there. they probably aren't where you'd expect them not to be but they might be in my stomach.

THE LEVIATHAN: DESENSITIZING OF THE HEART AND RESISTANCE FOR YOUR MIND

this is about me and this is about me and this is about me. i don't know what to do with my hands anymore. they feel pure, cold, and irrationally calculated. i no longer understand their trajectory. i'm constantly searching for mountains to cling to or a dandelion to pull apart. i found satisfaction in sanding away at the chair; it atrophied into a puddle of dust and feathers and your body parts. and it's all forming to the floor now. you're all forming to the floor now.

soon i find that i am walking on your jawline
sleeping on the palm of your hand
vacuuming away your hair
mixing up your bones with my toothbrush
i found your stomach in the pantry which had swallowed all my photographs
your teeth were hiding under the sofa
and i discovered your kneecaps resting on the windowsill
i heard your voice when i was in the shower
i didn't mean to spill lemonade on your eardrum, but what were you doing forming to the living room floor?
i'm sorry i danced on your heart, but couldn't you have found a better place to diffuse your innards than my apartment?

besides
i am merely a dragonfly made of glass
a life is a life is a life
and i am brittle and bitter

i'm trying to be polite, but what i'm really trying to say is: i'm tired of tip toeing around my bedroom to avoid stepping on your glassy eyes when i'm in a rush in the mornings and i can't always be careful about where i'm stepping anymore and you aren't leaving me enough room in here for building sandcastles which you know is what i have always dreamed of and you are making this small space complicated and here, this is for you: you are free, you are free, you are freezing.

EXCERPT OF WINTER JOURNAL

piensas que estas cosas nunca te sucederán a ti, piensas que no pueden pasarte. tú eres la única persona en el mundo a la que ninguna cosa mala no puede sucederle. y así, una por una, todas empiezan a sucederte, de la misma manera que les sucede a todos los demás en el mundo.

tus pies descalzos en el frío piso. te levantas de la cama y caminas a la ventana. tienes seis años. fuera la nieve cae, y los árboles del patio trasero se están poniendo blancos.

tú. hablas. ahora. antes de que sea demasiado tarde.

y luego, esperas seguir hablando hasta que no haya nada más que decir. el tiempo se acaba, después de todo.

tal vez sería bueno poner tus historias a parte por ahora, y tratar de analizar que es lo que has sentido viviendo dente de este cuerpo, desde el primer día que puede recuerdes estar vivo hasta ahora. un catálogo de datos sensoriales. esto es lo que podría llamarse una fenomenología de respirar y la acumulación del alma.

hoy, estaba caminando a casa bajo la lluvia pensando en los lugares poco profundos del hormigón como espacios poco profundos de las personas. nunca te diste cuenta del desnivel del hormigón hasta que apareció la lluvia. nunca me había fijado en las susceptibles cualidades humanas de una persona hasta que las vi desfallecer. hasta las entiendo por completo humanamente. pero encontré mi problema, perdido dentro de la vacilación. porque tengo miedo empiezo a crear una imagen genuina.

me llevas conduciendo a casa. tengo diecisiete años. pienso que nos estamos cantando. pienso que nos estamos besando. reconociendo los patrones en nuestros movimientos. escribiendo palabras en la ventana empañada del coche. sus movimientos me asustan ahora. "how to feel sad because of someone else's choices." "como sentirse mal por las decisiones de otras." realmente puedo sentirme vivo ahora.

DULL

i could feel alive in a ghost town with you around
and i could feel so dead in a crowded city without you there

FIRST WEEK OF APRIL RESTLESSNESS

in how many color shades do you think you'll exist in before you die
i hope all of them
ive covered the greys. blacks. the inbetween greyish black fog color, the slightly blue
and every shade of yellow, the greenish tints and the orangish tints and the purest yellow.

it's time for new adventures

NOTES FROM PHILOSOPHY CLASS

Today i am laughing about everything and i am not even on drugs but i think i am laughing about my general greed. i bought a $4 cinnamon roll which is not unlike kanelbulle but it is not great tasting. a waste. and then i said something witty in class to the girl next to me and she didn't respond and just stared at me. and so i laughed more. i think that no one likes me. i sit in front of the door of the classroom so people are always passing through and instead of moving to let them by i just grabbed my cinnamon roll to protect it. instincts. it's not even a good cinnamon roll. i think this demonstrates my general greed. someone outside in the hallway said EVERY DAMN DAY four times in a row to himself really loud. yeah. every damn day sir. then someone in the classroom across from mine sneezed and i wanted to say bless you but that's not appropriate to shout across hallways into different classrooms but i wish it was. and also the guy next to me always asks to borrow a pencil from me, and you know what? he always steals it and i want to say hey bastard give me back my pencil but then i would be his "the pencil girl" for the rest of the semester. i am still laughing about the german pencil bitch but now i am that german pencil bitch. i need to stop drinking coffee. and finally, my friend's ex boyfriend is in this class too, and i despise him, and i accidentally looked into his eyeballs and then i couldn't stop laughing. and now i'm scared. everything is calculated and i feel sick.

IF YOU FIND YOURSELF IN MY ARMS

two lovers stuck in a sweet embrace
hoping to never move or change
in the lost love and dust of a summer home
two people growing up and getting old
and in the light of a thousand eyes
i never want to lose you tonight
and all the lovers are civilized
but they'll never be the one just to hold you tight
and if i ever hold you again,
i'll hold you tight enough to crush your veins.

i hope your heart's good and strong
if you find yourself in my arms

two lovers stuck in a sweet embrace
hoping to never lose the race
as the wind travels into little bones
from a mouth speaking screaming in hushed tones
and i fly away to the coast
your face it haunts me more than most

and if i ever hold you again i'll hold you tight enough to crush your veins and you will die and become a ghost and haunt me until my pulse also slows.