It's Saturday And I'm Smoking Out My Bedroom Window Again.

I used to love this city and now it just feels haunted

i wish i didn't feel so sick inside of my body i wish i was like everyone else i don't mean that but things would be a lot simpler if i did

everything i write turns out as an i-statement and maybe that means i don't think about anyone other than myself but i don't want to speak on someone else's behalf

Excerpt from 'For you I am a child'

I couldn’t see the letters my hand formed, black against blue on black, but I knew they were there. After this blind exercise was completed, I returned the pen and wrapped my cold feet back into the blanket. Now, it was easy to fall asleep, and if I dreamed that night, I do not remember.

If a poem can be anything, I could’ve written anything. How to make avocados ripe, directions to a church of law, a vow, an elegy, how to rig a sailboat, fold a fortune teller, French inhale, sin, make good oatmeal, kiss without teeth, escape self-delusion, write a novel, give a blowjob, be less, be more, leave everything behind, get blood stains out of white sheets, hold eye contact, not get lost in New York City, find the nearest body of water, win at solitaire, be alone, write in dip pen, build a portal, be with others, float, harmonize, unlearn shame, learn guilt, . . .

open.substack.com

For you I am a child

My body A bag of rice Split open face-down I yawned Tasted cigarettes In the back of my throat Knew I’d ruin myself Again and again Made a h

unknown // ladybird (2017) // white oleander by janet fitch // elektra by sophocles // everything everywhere all at once (2022) // sharp objects by gillian flynn // mamma told me by mother mother

I don't think it would be hard to love you

my hair's been falling out in chunks

i only dream about my job

School's started

I drink at least one iced matcha latte with oatmilk a day

I'm in love with my teacher

Dude last night I had this dream we were fucking. I saw the back of your neck all bare and it was like I fell forward lips first onto it. Thin gold chain, spring clasp, I ripped it off with my teeth. I heard you choke for a second until it broke but you knew I wouldn't hurt you.

And in the dream we are in your bed, in your old room, the one you shared with that emo boy-girl who didn't want you having anyone over ever, in that so silent space of broken eye contact and listening, listening. A space can't last if you know you have to leave it right, so here I am writing about some pathetic dream I had about some thing I said I would forget. Maybe some other night I would write about softness or upturned lips but no this is all water now

I wanna go to a friend's friend's friend's show & get fucked by her afterwards

I want to be alone in a crowded room

i wanna do something that's not allowed

All this expectation is a knife!!

Getting worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better and worse and better

I recreate situations in the Sims 4 to feel some grasp of control over them

Excerpt from 'I might say something stupid'

This summer was spent hotboxing my closet and eating mangoes on the living room couch. I forgot things as soon as people said them. 

Nothing bad has ever happened. Not to me then and not to me now. I scrub at the wine stain on my jersey. I love open bar events. 

I spent two weeks as a camp counselor even though looking at children makes me feel sick to my stomach. In each one I see myself and wonder how anyone ever hurt me. 

sohelpmegod.substack.com

I might say something stupid

Brat summer, or innate goodness and suicidal tendencies summer