Tag: creative writer
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don’t make me say it
I’d rather sit in the corner of a one stall bathroom I just shit in while my unwashed hands make sweet swiping love to my pitch phone screen. Rather watch my clipped toenails hit strangers faces. steal toilet paper, condoms, tampons, and lunch from the same store without a bag to stash them in. Have…
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I’m a woman; he’s a man. Here is work.
my shredded hair was released a week later than his, but all they could observe here were these fresh ends. My kitchen scissors choked on my tail. His was softly washed, snipped, and brushed through by professional hands. they didn’t notice his care but said “it’s really dramatic of you.”
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i watched cavities. i read cavities. i lived a home.
i used to watch porn. Intermittent and usually blowjobs. (If that doesn’t tell you I’m a people pleaser, I’m not sure what else slaps the name-tag on.) These unidentified, insignificant dicks were probably in the back of a car or in some set of a kitchen where sinks don’t release water. Maybe fully outfitted with…
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Five blocks up and over
i woke up openmouthed with a burnt tongue. Snot suctions through my sinus with each swallow. i drank my tea too fast. there’s a crane in the distance. Red and been there for days — weeks, even. I think it’s rotated, but i’m really not sure it’s ever moved. I marvel at construction amidst this…
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The three of us friends
one of us will mourn the other two. a soul of these three will understand what is it to hear the dying rasp of the other two. and it break my heart to think it might be you. or even you. let alone, me. Surely, it can’t be me who survives the both of you.…
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scenes
a car parked in a puddle this morning. empty meters of space buttress it, and I wonder if it’s lonely. Or if its tires are soggy. If it’ll grow hungry and send its courier to the pumps ‘cross the pavement. I’m horny after a good shit. Ready to be filled again, i guess. My vagina…
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cellar aged
I think about archiving my young tits as I age. Not out of a lurking desire to keep them, but to understand how they’ll ferment. Why maintain two decade breasts when I can live out how they’ll swallow into themselves or layer my abdomen. What a gorgeous moment it will be to uncork the index…
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nippy
erect nipples and baggy pants that make my inner thighs trip over the penis i dont have. Dark wash jeans, and my mama’s mama’s sliced sheet cake. Rotten tequila hand sanitizer, the gangly french woman on my commute who only wears sterling silver, and patches of eczema propagating across my hand. the square cut of…
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heavy lifting
Stirring infant legs haven’t straddled my side. Instead, sand bags, three tote bags simultaneously, stacks of books, overbought groceries, and the canvas slung tools dodged into my waist line for gravitational support. When I started lifting heavy things, I understood why women have hips.
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wetting
my partner splayed my lips with ten forceps. Each layer was delicately peeled back, met with his dry lips until my well spilled over to moisturize them. uncovered, our mattress breathed cool air. The crocheted blanket snuggled a path above his head. My eyes spun out to a doctors office, but I never left the…
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