Tag: word count
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combat journal
My vagina has been drooling for nine days. The saliva isn’t acid rain this time around. There is warmth. The ridged tube, a crockpot. Warm broth swallows down a sore throat; fluids escape me in gulps. Her mouth is softened and slugged open. Little peach pits tied to my womb have sustained a stabbing sensation…
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then & now
He’s been there before, standing in front of me. Shorter but twenty years older. His skin is burnt umber and his boots… pure leather? They anchor him to the ground, and his voices floats like a feather. His hand reached out to exchange business cards, “meeting was my pleasure.” Now bags swing lower from his…
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scratching surfaces
“I have nothing planned?” “What’s nothing look like to you?” The church plays music on the hour. The sun projects bright orange blocks on the wall. The french bulldog vinyl is for a bank, and the green sign is for soda. When I step back from checking off lists, I find these occurrences are so much…
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something for my home, my body, my mind, and myself and myself and myself.
swept the food from the kitchen floor to discourage cockroaches purchased condoms from the store across the way stopped watching my newest binge-show after one episode paid bills after taking inventory of my bank account plucked my eyebrows and wrote. considered what allowed me to breath without a weight on my chest.
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oblong deposits
all my life, my nails were bit down to the beds. My grandma was the same way. She quit with a friend in high school. Maybe they traded for cigarettes. As she spoke to me, my hands were left with overgrown cuticles and bloody tips. I lived embarrassed of them more days than not. I…
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chewing block three // lies i might tell myself
if the writing isn’t good, I must find “good” in its accumulation. If the writing isn’t funny, I must execute precise wisdom. If the writing isn’t appropriate, I must be embarrassed. If the writing is sexual, I must trace over each word with tact. If the writing is about myself, I must balance it with…
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chewing block two
one of my biggest triggers is looking back at my old nudes. i look at the tightness of my muscles and the depressions in my ribcage with nasty pride. someone who saw me naked commented on the nature of my skin shrink-wrapping the bones beneath sometime this past winter. my cheeks were fiery, but my…
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chewing writer’s block
a friend dialed my line the other day. friendship looks this way these days. they asked to be held accountable. Simple and unadorned. In fact, they had specific details of their life they needed help with. No more than two sentences, yet no clarifying questions needed to be had. In the fashion of research, they’d…
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sweaters purchased in warm weather
a solicitor has been knocking at my door. She’s young, no older than I. It seems her glasses diffuse all light to black and white. Here to sell me her sweaters, the pitch is speedy — chasing her breath forever. The sentences promise always or guarantee never. I’ve let her feet weave into the entryway…
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daymare
I damn near ran naked through the halls of this adult dorm which is in fact an apartment building banging on doors praying one would open in time to Heimlich me this evening. This is the sort of shit you run into when you’re comfortably alone at home running wheelbarrow loads of cold spaghetti into…
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