July 29, 2014

The Color of the Week Is Red

√All of my fingernails broke off.




It was weird.  Like maybe the altitude makes that happen. Severs dead things.  Game overs them.

Picking my nose is ineffectual now.

They are all square , dirty and masculine. 

Trigger Warning: Gross things ahead.

Blood moves easy up here.  There is new blood in my nose.  My wounds bleed like they are children called to recess.  My pussy is a faucet of blood.  I want to hover over a porcelain bowl.  I want to see it flow.  Splatter. Red bossing the white. 

Ever masturbated around a person?  Kept things steady so another wouldn’t know?  Licked fingers just enough to avoid that wet smacking sound?  What about three people?  I’ve had bad thoughts lately.  Sometimes they come at night. After you look for a bear.  After you need a scenario to bring sleep close enough so you can succumb. There is a beauty in silent pleasure.  Gasping open-mouthed into a hot-roomed night, everything tasting metal, a swollen heat.  Heartbeat hurting.

I’ve bled out into two pairs of underpants.  A pair of shorts.  Has the air thinned its clot? 

Make it stop.

What does altitude do?  Does it make things feel more real?  Does it bring everything closer?    Does it draw things from my body so easily?  Candy promises that make them eager to leave?   

There is a clarity brewing like sobriety

She is a blood-sunrise you see while alone.  There is no way to explain, in words, that would make anyone else understand the beauty witnessed.  What it did to you as it happened.  What it still does to you now.  How you carry it with you in the marrow of every day, shaking you rag doll until the baby’s neck breaks.

I’ve never known anything like this and it’s a treasure.

July 19, 2014

Today I Am An Anarchy

Today I am an anarchy.  You have broken my boundaries.  The pieces are jagged and scattered, cutting.  As they hit the carpet, they make a beautiful bedlam.  My feet are bloody.  I know you are more than willing to hold them in your hands and wash them.  How have I become so deserving?

We are a brand new animal.  Before this, it did not exist.  Scientists have done their research.  Specialists and scholars have done their studies.  So many news reports; the mystery so great everyone hard desires a glimpse of what this new thing is.  Us included.  Where are the answers?  I suffer the lacking of every analyst until frustration covets my hopelessness and I make my command.  My governor dungeons the researchers.  They are useless.  I beat them myself.  I use our hands.

There is a new thing inside me and it is shouting.  It is rattling its cages, sounding the alarms.  All of my villagers are pillaging.  Destroying their very dwellings.  Assailing each other for lack of discernable enemy. Turning my long swallowing guts into fire and flame.  So much smoke seeps through my skin.  How can’t anyone else see?

I cannot concede anymore. There are new eyes and they see everything.

We are a hunted thing.  Our animal runs scared through the black-wet streets, afraid but still able to see the city lights’ colors reflect pretty on the pavement.  Even the machine guns and sirens cannot cover the sound of our heart’s double-strength beating.  In every doorway we huddle in, in every alley we stop to catch our breath, we are afraid but we are together. There is a protection built between us.  We are chased, but we are one and with all of our legs

we can run forever.


July 17, 2014

Literary Orphans Interview

A super nice person interviewed me for Literary Orphans.  I am humbled by their kind words at the end.

July 10, 2014

A Shit I've Been Needing To Take

Why say anything when she says it first? So perfect, so beautifully.

There is no point,    I think    ,when she takes it all away with her words, reducing me to a fern under her sunflower.  It’s what I could say too.  But the things tsunami inside me and the villagers won’t stop dying.  I have a voice too and it is so bursting.

But I am a liar.  I do know what to write but
the words won’t stand still. 

It is a four year first date.  I’m scared.  What if you put a brush to a masterpiece in an attempt to add more beauty and it ruins?  Should some thing be left sacred?  Even if all of you is pressed past want into need?  

I am scared. 

I am scared of things that can’t be taken back.

She doesn’t know that I argue with myself several times a day regarding her.  It is a nutjob.  My birthday is today and I am an old woman and I have never been more confused in my entire life.  I didn’t think you could live a fistful of decades and find yourself in a landscape you have never walked before.  These are new shoes. Let’s jump off a cliff.

My other half lives apart from me.  As much as I want to sequester, I want to release.  It’s not fair.  I cannot be everything we’d like to be.   I am not in a position to tether and I won’t.  

Here is a glass of all I want for you.  Drink.

What is pain?  Let me tell you.

It’s nice to feel like you matter to someone.  That, in the world, there is a person who warms at the thought of you.  That you are in their waking, breathing, sleeping thoughts.  It hurts in the faraway when the close is so hollow, so devoid.  I want to put my hand into a garbage disposal.  That is something definitive.  That is a predictable outcome.  Easy.

I am a schoolgirl.  I am a push-away.  This cannot happen.  Do not get greedy.  

I am so greedy.

June 26, 2014

This Is Like

And my angry dad.  And a place where I might be soothed.  They are bookends.  You are my climb.  We are feasible…together.  Let’s scramble eggs.

You are with me when you are not with me.  I quiz myself to make sure and the answers all come up the same.

1. Turducken
2. Gentrified
3. Smarter than me.
4. Dope

A plus PLUS

If you want to see the thrill in me, just take that small piece out where my heart is.  Dig past the fuzz and lard-paste.  You will not need reading glasses.  You will need ear plugs.  The beating has turned to cymbals.

I hide our aeroplane in a gadda da vida made up for seven.  It’s plush and well-rounded.  Glitter-buoyant with food and drink shipped in from expert craftsmen hovelled in dark corners.  A slipstream rounds the middle.  It’s parsed neon and beige-gold. All the cool people filet their wrists for even a glimpse inside, but everyone bleeds out and Alfonso tires from spraying the pavement. 

The needing of you overcame and I uninvited the seven.  We’ll have to take their place. There is a massacre we need to instigate and it will start with me and it will end with you and it will start again with us.

Brief me on all system failures so I can, again, feel clean.

I want to know what doesn’t work in you so I have a chance to fix it. 

I will work until there is no more broken. Until I filet and Alfonso has to spray my last attempt from the pavement.

June 16, 2014

What the Fuck

All of these bird-like visits;





landing again

alighting again

They are too small,

too not enough,

but i relish them. 


Each one an oyster. Each one a snowflake.

There was a lunch with beautiful people.  Us among them; self-diagnosed disheveled.  But there she was. 

Her shine.

Stealing. She stole that day. Took. Take. Taken.  I let her.  She knew.  As did I.

Is it stealing if it is given? 

Later, we walked amongst the graves, building stories from the stones, stepping carefully.  The skull with the bow in the trunk.  We gave each other our hearts.

Then more stealing.  How does she do it without me knowing?  (oh, I know)  Kidnapped.

All of the words coming at us and her hand and mine. 

When she reads her truth I am close to crying. 

I sit while she is adored. 

In the parking structure she flips the bottom of my shirt and smiles. 

It gets softer every time.

Or, at least, it seems that way. 

June 03, 2014


It’s hard moving your life.  Sticking things that long-lived in one place into boxes that will be brought to another.  Sometimes you tell those things, “See you in Sacramento!” before you close the box.  You aren’t actually moving to Sacramento, but the phrasing seems sing-songy and silly and you need as much of those two things right now because moving to a new city is nucking futs.

So, yeah, I’ve been busy.

Sometimes two days isn’t enough but it’s all you have so oh well.  When you succumb to time limits and rub up against them, warmly, like they’re your grandpa and you are his “best gal” only good things happen because you know every moment counts and so you make lots of those moments.  Or you make a blur of those moments that when you try to think back you can only see a pink smear across the sky in front of you that has some dark brown behind it and a feeling like floating.

I’m so tired but it’s good. I’m sinking into my bones.  A deflation.  I want to say right now, “albatross”.  I want to say right now, “communion.”  I want, right now, a single space between us.  I want a very definitive arm to hold on to.  

Wonder Twin Powers, activate.

I smiled a lot last night and mostly listened because of the tired.  I saw that from outside myself. Felt my eyes slitted and stoned.  I couldn’t eat all of that raw meat.  Are you kidding me?  It seemed ‘pranky;’ but you gotta try scary shit once in a while, right?

How can time together be simultaneously as different as snowflakes and as constant as the rising sun?  It makes for great peace, let me tell you.

I get really mad about people who bring dogs into human establishments and I get really mad at people who don’t know how to behave in a movie theater.  Probably those are my only two things.  Most of the days I feel those people are all of the duplicated Michael Jacksons in that one video where an army of him is dancing for miles and miles and you’re like, BILLIONS OF MICHAEL JACKSONS!  Most days I feel like those people are winning and I get really bummed about our world and our society.  But last night I was around so many wonderful people and it made me think that maybe our side could win. 


Stuff of dreams happening to someone that couldn’t be more deserving. It’s a joy to be there to see it all. 

"Welcome to Hollywood! What's your dream? Everybody comes here; this is Hollywood, land of dreams. Some dreams come true, some don't; but keep on dreamin' - this is Hollywood. Always time to dream, so keep on dreamin'."

May 14, 2014

Juliet Escoria Summer reads me over at HTML Giant!