incubation.

i like to sit in the bath. and just look at my skin. pick apart all the things i dont like about myself. stare them down. hey you.

taylor. im not trying to hide anything. i spent this whole day trying to think of a short story. i figured if i thought about it long enough that one would magically pop into my head and out through my hands. but that never happened. it seems my mood lately has been this face :/ just disappointed. apathetic. suffocating in ennui inside this apartment. this place has become a pillow.

penicillin day dreams. it makes my head feel loopy. i feel tired and it makes me drained. these days in this bed trying to clean my blood. make it all good again. a purification process and i feel like its taking so much out of me. like when edward sucks the venom out of bella. a vampire love story. take me away. 'and i would be heavenly if baby you'd just rescue me now'.

speaker phone love songs. play me a song. little birdy i know youre going to fly soon. i miss your laugh. when i hear it on the speaker it makes me smile. every day i feel like your wings are spreading and it wont be long before you take off. all i can hope is that you dont leave me behind. or perhaps i could even grow my own wings. theyre under there. theyre a lump under the skin in my back. fortunately that skin is thin. sometimes i dont feel like there is enough.

'we're gonna start a revolution well ya know.' my tool will be a sharpie on a bathroom wall. an angry message on a stolen post office sticker stuck to a box of m&m's in the grocery store. this keyboard. a bird in my mind i release on these keys. mine to birth yours to keep. my mind is a womb an incubator for these thoughts that will maybe one day fix at least one thing.


my nails are short and every day i am learning to love my hands.

i could use a ride on your handlebars.

chestbeats.

more defiant. less sad. less needy. fuck you. i write better sideways anyways. writing for an audience and the consequence is a less than perfect version of the words n thoughts i was trying to portray. feeling for you was writing for an audience and the consequence was a less than perfect version of me.

what im starting to see is that what i need is something like you. this catalyst to the masochist inside of me. this pressure this torture to order the creativity holed up in me. and for that i thank you for that i applaud you when i call you now it will be for thanks for all the momentum you have given to me. for the rhythm for the divinity of this beating heart of this speeding pulse of this racing pen. so the words will flow and from deep below i can read these words out loud to shine in front of this crowd so my lighthouse

can retire.

a trial.

i feel like all this is an exercise. when does the test begin. the project. or is the project the exercise. philosophy. philosophical. slam it like a tequila shot. a shot to the throat a shot to the heart. tear me down. lick me slam me suck me. just like the t-shirt. just like the shot. what you need is what im not but what i am is what you want. have me. but don't judge me. don't put me in your box.

a lox bagel on a coffee night. writing to you writing for me. free dancer on the couch theres no way out. shes a lifer. shes my friend. i watched her on the dance floor like a slow motion movie queen. my glass was the screen and she shined like a light like a beacon. my lighthouse to creativity to freedom. her hair swings to a rhythm she made and we tandem create but im thinking of you and youre skewing my view. what i need now is a clear glass an unfogged window no smoke to push my finger through. an ounce of sanity of clarity this disparity is more than i can bear for me. her hair stood up on its tendrils and i touched it and i felt it just like you felt mine. and i projected myself onto her and expected her to feel the way that i do as i always do.

projection. protection. rejection.

infatuation. persuasion.

confusion. delusion.

your smile is what gets me most.

my laughter is what wont let me go.

'help i have done it again'

i can feel it. its right here in my chest. its always been here but i can only feel it sometimes.

i am so asymmetrical. my nose is crooked. one of my eyes opens more than the other. my bottom lip is much larger than the top. i swear my right leg is bigger. my chin is too small. i like my cheekbones and my eyes except one is bigger. and you look at you here beside me loving all of it. what i know i dont deserve is you. success. happiness. love. i deserve all of those things. i can take all of those things but i don't deserve you. lying there peaceful with your back to mine and your hands are crossed in your chest. my eyes stuck to the tattoo on your back. my mind wanders to when you drew it and then to the man who put it on you.

songs. songs. a collection of writing songs. why do i need songs to write a song.


breathe and just breathe on me and breathe in our bed. i did this same thing in my bed with the music and the headphones and the wine and the laptop and the cat. and its all so much more with you here beside me. i miss you when youre gone for a second even just to pee. you comfort me youre comforting me. my leg on yours and your back .. your back to me.