

when dreams become expectations
climb through
i was promised a piece of you
chewed up, skinny enough to fit down a plastic straw
now we've got needlepoint dreams
sweaters on the backs of rocking chairs
green garden yard for running feet
fantasy
when life is bigger than words
even though i imagine it
some moments
can feel the want of it in my bones
like fizzy irrational madness
hang up the hat on
the hook by the door
warm your feet by the fire
take a breath
one breath
touch my skin again
tell me it's not this
when it is
when it isn't
skin
flowering plant
symbiotic
too much sun
head on backwards
never
maybe
forever
promise
but promise for later
Tuesday at Seven
Seven o'clock on a Tuesday feels like a warp in time and space. Some kind of illusion of life, twice every 168 hours. Seven o'clock AM and seven o'clock PM.
Maybe it's the way Tuesday is sandwiched by other days; Monday begins the week, Wednesday sits squarely in the middle. Tuesdays are meaningless by comparison. In the same way, seven o'clock is sandwiched by meaningful hours; six is just after work, eight is when it's finally late enough to start the slow process of going to bed. Seven is neither.
It is seven PM. Tuesday. I have given up on the night and stand vulnerable underneath the tepid water of my shower. When I inherited my parent's house after my mother's death, I inherited a glass shower. The mirror is just across the bathroom, so you have the pleasure of turning your head to the side and watching your own naked body go through the motions of having a shower.
It is unsettling to say the least, and discorporate to say everything else. To see out of the corner of your eye a pale elbow move in a room you know has no other beings: it simply takes you out of it. You realize that you may never have existed in the first place, that your current consciousness is somehow stuck in this place, in this moment, on a Tuesday, watching the strange fleshy body of a man moving under water.
And then you think, what is a Tuesday, and why? Who assigned weeks, let alone days? As the sun moves further and further away from the spec of land that this being currently inhabits, won't the very idea of time itself no longer be fixed? Isn't it changing, little by little, and does any of it matter when this being can barely comprehend the size of space itself? The vastness of the universe, when it sees so little, breathes so feebly, scrubs its soft skin even though soon it will die, be a pile of bones, be consumed and forgotten by the rest of the universe.
I step out of the shower, and nearly no time has passed. My wristwatch, resettled into the divot beneath my wrist bone, perfectly covering the palest, thinnest flesh that hides my pulse, reads 7:21. As if the time matters.
A watch, like so much in life, is really only symbolic of my inability to separate myself from the needs and wants of society. Time, as a concept, really has no meaning on my life, other than the inevitable and impending time-crunch that is my lifespan. That which has a beginning and end. The middle time is wholly inconsequential, but others try to convince me that it is not.
Days are cyclical; weeks are cyclical. The hours never change and yet we are constantly reminded of them. To what end? I still can't figure it out. Because it's always Tuesday, it's always Tuesday at seven o'clock, and there's nothing at all I can do about it.
2.6.25
cyclical chase
i stop on street corners
watching the colors of the sky
crash like waves against each other
watch the moon devour the sun
devour the moon again,
when the time comes
over and over again
if this is the clock then
i'm the cuckoo
running water through my head
just thoughts to wash out the old ones
we're made of time.
until we aren't.
isn't it all silly when
the sky can devour itself,
when it can do the very same to us
i want to hold you
i want to hold you as the waves crash
i need you here
i need you here when the clock strikes again
seems like i miss her
seems like i miss you
seems like i'm alone again
this is a melting sky
running through futures
and i watch you in them,
i want you in them
i'm chasing something
same as the moon chases the sun
landmark
though the winds may blow,
tired feet trek on.
shadows of unused railroad lay beside
boot tracks carefully marked.
it will lead me -
following scent my nose did not smell,
running through fields my eyes did not see,
diving deeper and deeper into oceans my legs could not feel.
i am with you.
the sun knows nothing of the turning
i do, the nights without sleep
or the days wandering by.
no planet, sand, or hand could capture
the slow drawl of time.
the weakness of my heart as it drags.
the hours without.
how my mind travels.
somehow you define a piece of me,
despite myself, my inner workings and learnings.
you are with me.
like a sailor's boat, i am storm-ridden,
lurching towards light at the hands of a sailor i do not know.
compelled by forces greater than i.
i will go,
because Fate herself, who has brought us together,
is blowing the wind through the lands,
forming a loop.
i will go further, so that i can get closer.
i know where you are, always. in my heart.
though the winds may blow,
i will know you.
i will find you.
i am with you.
i know that this is love but i do not know why
perhaps life is an illusion
and i have lived too many lives
in the skins of paper and ink
but i have pondered time and time again
what is connection, attraction, desire, and admiration
they are painfully distinct
and they are the same
lived and relived
through every human through all of time
recorded, reimagined, reviled, and relished
in every instance unique
i do not know boundaries or language or truth
i do not distinguish fear nor heartache nor exhilaration
it is one as i am one
i approach death in every and all moments
equally as i approach life
breathing language i cannot begin to understand
sharing soul, earth, and body in ways only mortals can
i am yet broken
i am yet inspired
i am yet bound by those i love and am loved by
i cannot define the lines, rules, or meanings
i do not know what is fair, fear, or folly
i cannot fathom meaning beyond love
as concept, as truth, as immeasurable and immaterial
i do not know the meaning of what i write, only that i do
i do not know the meaning of love, only that i must
1.2.2025
unexplainable explainable brain breakage
back
resting on hard metal
of the bedframe i slept on
for most of my life
back
in the room where i
wished on baby teeth
scribbled on diaries
slept on rainbow sheets
didnt think it would
happen
here now
but i cried in the car
and
we pretended i didnt then
you
waited on me to pack a bag and
i couldnt
couldnt hold in
illogical tears
squatted besides a table
i painted for my sister and
held my hands over my mouth
and sobbed
and waited for you to find me
because i couldnt speak
cant speak
can never speak silent
back
behind the bed the door opened
and i didnt know it was you until you
put your hand on my
back
whispered
held me
waited
loved me
put everything you were carrying
back
until it was just us
and my tears
and i said im sorry
and you said i dont need to be
and we went back
to silence
tearsoaked fading carpet
warm arm around my shoulder
thoughts slowly fading back
to normal
back to someplace that lets me breathe
im still sorry
that i cant speak and i dont know what i am
but thank you for bringing me
back
12.29.24
Maybe
The party was like a snake, slowly wrapping around the guests until they could no longer move - the dance floor empty, the balconies sparse. Maybelle let her sandals dangle off one finger, tired and unwilling to move.
Cassidy, Taylor, and Daysha were still gathered around a cocktail table, empty glasses pushed to the side to make room for a tarot card reading. Maybelle had gone to the bathroom then decided to wait here, near the doors, instead of making her way back over. Her feet hurt and her head felt muddied a little as she leaned against a pillar and admired the ballroom.
It had been a surprise that her friend group had even been invited. Chelsea and Brian had gotten engaged, which had been the absolute talk of campus, for the seniors at least. Maybelle couldn't imagine being engaged; hell, she'd never even had a romantic partner before. And then they'd thrown the most grand engagement party their college had ever seen, thanks to Chelsea's family fortune. Campus was small, and pretty much all the seniors knew each other, but Maybelle still hadn't expected the little champagne-accompanied invitation at her apartment door. Maybe Chelsea left one at everyone's door.
The party was held in a historical building just off campus, only a ten minute walk for Maybelle and her friends, but they'd never been inside before today. It was once a grand hotel, according to the plaques, and standing inside it now, Maybelle wished she could time travel back and see it in its full, bustling glory.
She imagined butlers holding leather suitcases in their gloved hands, trolleying them up to the rooms that now held snack tables and offices. Women wearing pearls and little hats would walk into the ballroom, short heels clicking on the marble floor. They'd watch the men at the bar across the way, adjust their lipstick and pretend they didn't notice when the men watched them back.
Maybelle looked up into the sparkling chandeliers, across at the staircase winding up to the balcony, watching two people she vaguely knew flirt with each other, bumping shoulders and suppressing smiles. The ballroom was almost empty now, just a scattering of people at its edges, hidden partially by the large flower arrangements - pink roses and massive fern leaves. Chelsea and Brian were long gone now, and the warm lighting was dim, the pop music replaced by generic Muzak drifting faintly through the room.
"Still here, Maybe?"
Calvin stood just on the other side of the pillar she was leaning against. She was surprised he hadn't brought his friends around with him. They'd been lingering around her table all evening, making jokes while the rest of them rolled their eyes. At one point Maybelle had to pull Taylor away from body-slamming Seb, who kept telling her that her red dress made her look like a crab.
"Still don't know how to tie a tie?" she quipped automatically, peering around the pillar at him. He'd shown up with a knotted tie that, while maybe technically correct, looked horribly uneven. Now it hung over his neck completely undone, pulling her eyes to the unbuttoned button on his dress shirt.
She moved at the same time he did, and they ended up toe-to-toe, looking at each other. Maybelle didn't like that she was close enough to see the beginning of stubble on a face she considered to be always cleanly shaven. "I didn't realize you'd care so much," he said, looking down at their feet. His were in worn tennis shoes, despite the rest of his outfit being formal, and hers were bare. "Forgot how to wear shoes?"
"If you keep staring I'll assume you have a fetish," she told him. "At least I tried." Maybelle held her small pastel pink sandals in between them, brushing them against his stomach and causing Calvin to take a step back.
He narrows his eyes, a familiar expression to her. "Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" She knew he was referring to the fetish comment, but she didn't engage. Boys were predictable, and predictably, he trailed after her when she said nothing and walked around him.
When she reached her table of friends, he was just a step behind. What she hadn't noticed was Seb had squeezed himself between Taylor and Daysha, and Cassidy was explaining his tarot cards to him.
"Basically it means you're gonna die," Taylor interjected melodramatically.
Daysha laughed, and Cassidy shook her head. "No, it doesn't." Cassidy's long fingers splayed over the Three of Swords, and she directed her intense gaze on Seb. "It means heartbreak; you think you've found what you're looking for but it falls through your fingers, lost, leaving you feeling isolated. Not necessarily over a person, even."
"Heartbreak over something other than a person? Sounds like Seb. He'll probably lose his last save in a video game or something," Calvin laughed.
Seb held both index fingers up in front of him. "Whoa, man. As if you have any more game than I do. All that Magic the Gathering is like girl-repellant."
"I'm actually extremely sought-after," Calvin tried to say, but Taylor drowned him out with, "At least he's actually nice to people sometimes." Even though she was a foot shorter than Seb, she was still the most intimidating person Maybelle knew. Luckily for Seb, they were all well aware that Taylor would actually rather sleep with him than strangle him, despite the way she acted.
The rest of them let Taylor and Seb argue, and Cassidy spun her arms around, her long, bat-winged sleeves almost knocking over an empty glass. "Calvin! Your turn for a reading."
He picked up a card suspiciously, moving in towards the table, brushing up against Maybelle's side. "I don't think so."
Cassidy deftly took the card back and shuffled the deck. "If you play something called Magic then I'm sure you'll survive this," she told him breezily.
He made a grim but thoughtful expression, and Maybelle laughed into her hand. He turned at the sound, pinning her with eyes like a hawk. "Fine." Lower, he said to Maybelle, "But put those away, or I'll be too distracted to pay attention." He glanced under the table at her feet, and she huffed.
"Yeah, right. You could make an effort to just not look at me at all, how about that?"
Calvin snorted. "Easily." And Maybelle accidentally caught Daysha wiggling her eyebrows at her. Cassidy had a more subtle satisfied smile on her face. Her friends thought that Calvin and Maybelle's bickering actually meant something, but Maybelle was less convinced.
Calvin was an ever-present distraction, Maybelle knew that. They shared three classes this semester, and each one felt like another opportunity for him to show her up. He was stupidly smart and wildly good at debating, whereas Maybelle was good on paper and couldn't speak when other people looked at her. She'd endured his presence since freshman year, when they'd gotten to know each other during a group debate in a philosophy class. Despite being on the same side of the debate, he had successfully humiliated her by writing out an argument for her to say. It had been riddled with nonsensical and pretentious phrasing, and when she stumbled over her words he'd swooped in like a savior. She wished for every moment after that that she had just broken from his script, but her mind always went blank in moments where she most needed it.
From there Maybelle had poured all of her energy into what she was good at: thinking ahead. She let him have his debates, but she aced every written test and paper. They continued to play this game in their classes today - the two of them consistently had the highest grades in every one of their classes. She knew there was a good chance he liked her, but now that the end of senior year was approaching, what was the point? And besides that, did she like him?
Cassidy was beckoning Calvin close, whispering something as he bent across the table to hear it. Maybelle was jostled by Taylor, who had come around to the other side of the table after calling Seb a dickweed. Maybelle had completely zoned out and missed Calvin's reading, and was beginning to feel the full weight of the night. It was late.
She saw the cards on the table: Seven of Cups for the past, a reversed Eight of Wands for the present, and The Lovers for the future. Maybelle didn't have any of the meanings memorized, but the last one felt self-explanatory. She pushed away from the table, fairly sure Cassidy was in control of the cards, not that she'd ever accuse her friend of that to her face. But in this case it seemed likely.
Taylor took this opportunity to pull her to the side, nearly poking them both in the eye with ferns. "How does my makeup look?" She peered through the leaves back at the table, now a few feet away.
Maybelle did a once-over of her friend. "You literally look like you did at the beginning of the night. Still stunning." It was true, not even a hair was out of place on her blonde head. She must've used a lot of hairspray. Taylor waved a hand. "So my face isn't red or anything? Seb's such a bastard."
After a sigh, Maybelle said, "Yeah, you always say that."
Crossing her arms, Taylor looked at Maybelle. "Alright, Sassy. I hear you complain about Calvin all the time so I don't wanna hear it. Speaking of, why didn't you dance with him?"
Now Maybelle frowned over at the rest of the group. Calvin was still talking to Cassidy, pointing at his cards. His hair was kind of mussed. "He never asked."
Taylor let out a prolonged groan. "This isn't the fifties. You guys have rom-com levels of sexual tension. You could have asked him."
Scrunching up her nose, Maybelle turned back to Taylor. "I don't think that's accurate. And what about you and Seb?" Immediately Taylor's chin jutted into the air, but she said nothing, which was a telling sign. "Taylor? Did something happen?" It would be a relief.
"I might be going to his place tonight. Maybe."
Maybelle internally squealed and externally couldn't stop a grin. "Oh my god, finally."
Taylor was two inch shorter than Maybelle even with her heels on, but she managed to still give the impression of looming over her. "Not a word. It's totally casual, but just, feels right."
Daysha was calling their names, so Maybelle just nodded back, grin still in place. Taylor smiled a little too, contrasting it by saying, "But I might not. Just maybe."
"Maybe, maybe, maybe." The rest of the group was wandering over, minus Cassidy, who was putting her cards away. But it was Calvin, who was behind Daysha and Seb, who had spoken. 'Maybe,' his nickname for Maybelle.
Her eyes skimmed over him, but she then pointedly ignored him. When Cassidy joined them, Maybelle noticed how quiet the ballroom had become. Nearly empty, as it was probably approaching 2 AM. When they opened the hotel's large front doors, a gust of cold night air hit them, sending goosebumps down Maybelle's bare arms.
Maybelle watched Taylor mutter something to Seb, who had to bend down to hear her, then they parted, Seb going left and Taylor going right. Daysha and Cassidy turned right and called goodbye to the boys. Maybelle was last to descend the hotel's stairs, and she watched Calvin, tie almost lifted off his shoulders by the wind, turn left with the barest wave of his hand. Without saying goodbye, he walked away.
Her bare feet hit the cold sidewalk, damp from a little rain, and she turned right to follow her friends back. But she did turn back once, just to look, but he was just a shadow in the night by then.
bones , rags , tissue paper
triangles of tissue paper
held upside down and
held between two fingers
like a dying bird
you have become the most
ordinary version of yourself,
the one who can bend into
a high street kind of shape
when did being human
become important to you
brown paper bag souls
sold by the pound on the
street corner by your house
the world is simple when
you make yourself simple
but the divide becomes
ever clearer, the illusion
rats living in the world's
most glamorous sewer
gnawing on bones, rags,
tissue paper, and souls
until they can no longer
remember the warmth
of their own sun
to never underestimate the power of words
my life's too easy
to feel so listless
i'm always asking the page to tell me something new:
the next words,
the next step,
the next thing to believe
is that what i am, just empty-headed?
a monster of society's making, pinched into
shape by the people standing nearby to me?
glass towers never looked so empty,
even when they shimmer like crystal
take my words, spin them like silk into scarves
lay them at eye-level and tell me something
i don't know
bare my chest
my neck, my shoulders, my thighs
touch this skin
but you're incapable of seeing
what's just inside
i'm afraid of being seen but you
don't see it
you may force these words
from my lips or from the page
and still
they drop meaninglessly into your palms,
my lifeblood, my pain and love and sorrow -
my entire reality, in pieces, at your
fingertips and it all means nothing to you
you, who have not the keys to unlock them
you, who has not the courage to ask what it is
you, who has taken what i do not give
you, who still does not understand the power words hold
the power that i wield
and forget
for it and many other things have been used against me
and you are too blind
and i am too cowardly
and words rise and fall between us like the beating heart
dec 2 24
it is easy to talk about nothing
i listen
to
silence
on the other side of the line:
how well do I really know You?
vice versa and
inhale
how well do I really understand Us?
cause
i don't wanna be the girl that waits on the front porch
for you to get home, for you to take a phone call, for you
to break the silence
with words
that we're used to saying
because we're used to saying them
am
I really a coward and
if i'm not why do i feel like i am
you make me forget the world is horrifying
this makes me feel guilty
this makes me feel guilty
this
feels impossible to explain to you
exhale
because I don't know how I know You
and
what if You don't know Me either