hello december

I can't even begin to tell you how much my skin hurts. The layers on my cheeks are hot, and tight. My eyes are thick with viscous scum and I've stopped even pretending that I should care about the flaking of 6000 cushioned nose blows. I gagged on my own snot today. And I wrote this 2 winters ago, but it's sure not complete:


There are some things that even a casserole can’t fix.
like aching hearts, and broken bicycles, and
the fact that you know that there are more eyes than necessary watching you.

Public, yes,
and private, even more so.
Who can determine what I feel besides me?

beside me, alone, in this house, alone,
we dug a firepit that never shone.
I don’t know what to do with this
I don’t know what to do with this much
I don’t much know what to do.

I don’t want this heaviness, this knowing of weight.
It makes me stupid, and clumbsy.
tongues like loofas
fundamental, and gone in dreams so vivid there.

inherent, apologies,
this is not
anyone’s business but my own.

The similarities are astonishing, and
the differences clear. The ratio is
not quite right.

Perishables will perish.
Throw them in the pot.
I am 31 years old and none the wiser,
or wiser than I trust myself to be.

Space claimed, and named,
corners pissed on and left unattended
like baggage at the airport
we sat at wrong gates.
waiting to be destroyed.