Category: Uncategorized
-
versions of the same two
slits in the head cavity have cranked open once more. their gears, rusted. the low rumbling current of air streaming in and out reaches the ears before the black brightens to yellow. am i breathing? signals strike pots and pans through the groggy hallways of gray matter. the steak in the chest conducts a fresh…
-
versions of the same
i carry stress in my hips, jaw, brainstem, and along the longitudinal axis that curvilinearly joins my two shoulders. Fatigue and pain cut through my lower back; my third eye is carved by worry; overstimulation and shame clamp my teeth together tightly; anxiety traces a clothes hanger from shoulder to shoulder, hooking my neck with…
-
i’ve only ever watched one thing die
In middle school, I would accompany my father to the farm he maintained an hour south of our home. With cowboy boots slung into the back of the truck, I’d hop in the cab with soft puffy eyes that returned to sleep on the commute. Sports commentary would blare through the radio until the hardware…
-
Dr.John’s “Right Place Wrong Time”
I’ll listen to the same song on repeat for weeks. For the moments it’s not reaching my deaf ears, it’ll be in my dreams and being belted silently in my head. If it makes me feel, I have to move really fast with it. I skip to the part where I escalate everything, say I…
-
anatomy of a wave
Near third grade, my mother cancelled cable, and it ruined my summer. A forced detox from camping out in front of that gridded light box for hours on end left me stirring. To this day, my brother will bring it up to mock me, and I get red at every mention. For spending hours watching…
-
2:11pm CST and a thousand other things
I think about the “but I’m not a rapper” YouTube video monthly. After fifteen minutes of Supa Hot Fire, I realize I haven’t had much to say today. I can’t put my tongue on an idea and lick it quite yet. Let alone be curious about it’s flavor or dissolving rate. It’s past noon. In…
-
re: start designing estate sale posters asap
People save voicemails to remind them of their loved one’s voices. All I’m leaving is my relationship duress, off key attempts at Leith Ross, and detailed seven minute thirty one second clips of water dripping because I thought I might be Maggie Rogers and integrate it into my art. I never did. What if all…
-
what’s covering my ass right now and barely that
I have these shorts that look like a diaper. Like an old stretched out green near-linen diaper. They’re kind of cute, as you can imagine. They’re loose in the crotch, and if I wore them descending a staircase, my vagina would easily be seen in full from most angles. They are most comfortable sans underwear.…
-
a job, a phone call, and a sitting session.
What would life be like if i were simply and solely the muse? Would I come home after my office job each day and retire to the life of a muse? Everything I would do, even how my fingers would leave the door knobs I rest shut, would be watched. The way I’d shove my…
-
i’ve been feeling like a bad person
I’ve been listening to a podcast that’s short form. Twenty minutes feels right because my ears — let’s blame a set of inanimate body parts for this shortcoming — are not patient enough for hours of other people talking. Thirty pushes it because i’m selfish right now — it’s the ears’ fault! The podcast is…