you are pale like the bones worn and dried by the
desert sand and i am bleeding romance all over you.
you told me that love is ignoring the sacred and the holy
and doing what you want anyway.
i can see mozart and michelangelo and renoir in your eyes,
all broken ears and broken hands and broken pictures
of things that were once pretty. you painted a comet above
your heart and i’m sorry that the rain washed it away.
i drew rings on my fingers but you know people don’t just wash off.
the ink poisoning remains, reminding me to
count the blessings like dandelion dust against windowpanes:
the floorboards creak and your eyes are rusted shut.
i have fox ears and the birthmarks of someone else’s love.
i’m sorry that sometimes i can’t hear and i’m sorry you have freckles
speckled across your face. we are burning like that comet and
adam and eve smile secretly on the sistine’s ceiling.
do you think monet would be ashamed?
i tattooed a hunting hat behind my ears and when i was a child, i wept for innocence’s corpse.
super amazing collab with jackie, who is my sugar pie honey bunch and i love her.
summer is wilting: my heartbeat frantic as
the thunder resonating. i am an insomniac,
and you are my five am,
you are my drunken hiccups.
so love, tell me about the sadness
living in dusk’s kingdom,
your blushing face, so ashamed
i carry your battle wounds
upon my shoulders like atlas: forgive me
if my back hunches.
love seeps into skin like acid;
burning words into our minds like cracks
of veined lightning. a double-sided sword,
ambrosia and poison to us mortals.
i feel the aftershocks of you,
shake, tremble, so frenetic.
look underneath my floorboards and
dust off my soul: rising dough:
you make me float.
the pizza man said you have a lovely smile
and i can’t say i disagree:
my heart skips like a record player and
i’ve never heard music like your sighs,
sing me a song, robin
and i’ll whistle your tune
whenever i want you near.
amazing collab with mykingsinthebackrow.
a statue, frozen numb,
covered in bird shit and you
were never pigeonholed.
closure is an act of violence,
you know, like an aching,
i will blink until i see stars.
i will blink until i see blood.
revenge is only as sweet
as a balance beam:
as dancing with the edge.
my heart jumps fifty stories,
you are the cement, oh the horror.
like the snake’s kiss,
like the sound of heaven and hell exploding; imploding.
wrap the echos ‘round,
we flirt with chaos and hold soft affairs
with the sound of our own destruction,
until not only do we lace our skin with
the seven deadly sins, we are sewing curtains,
table cloths, blankets
to shroud us in what we were taught not to do.
tea parties at three am and you want, i want,
we want: we aspire to be mad and darling we are
the sucess of our brothers, our mothers and sisters
we have become more than they had the potential to be. yet,
voices whisper: we are our own disasters.
collab with mykingsinthebackrow, who’s loveeeely
Could be market-bound for days
-flowers falling in petal lack
sixteen for ten and I have nine-fifty in my wallet
looking for a petal-perfect
Vendor tells me /yes-beautiful-she’s-lucky/
and I nod cause why ruin it
conventions - keep it all surface
weather through the /hello -good-weekend how-work is fine/
I accepted Divine into my heart
after glorius sings of His appearance
and He is gone from me now
a vapor hovering tantalizing
Is this the way of all prophets?
I want to enter a mosque - church - any holy place
and unclasp myself until a chariot descends-
Doors are open but I walk past
looking for perfection
I see the carts bringing in tulips from Holland
sage from Texas
lilacs from the field outside of town
all beautiful all withering
all left to be picked by poets and lovers
and husbands staving off separation
my petal isn’t here-
I can smell its absence through the cacophonous mix of fragrance
my petal is gone-
I don’t think you can smell the true essence of a flower
because they invite you in and seduce you with this
sort of slutty beauty, vivid reds and blues and long
stringy green stems and lilthe little leaves that spring off
and die and I think we’re all just flowers,
trying to love but at the peak, we fall.
Once i met this man who sang to roses
and picked off each thorn with a pair of tweezers and he told me,
i tell them they’re beautiful then i take away any power
they could hold over me and i treat everything else
i love the same way.
these petals are wilting and i see that now.
collab with King Stimie and myself.
when i was fifteen, my teeth tasted like metal and i was more alive than i ever thought i’d be.
i befriended the wizard and walked the yellow brick road every night. there were lions and scarecrows and my tinman sister and i made new friends with each pill that touched my tongue.
“dor, this is zeke.” my sister had glitter near her eyes and plastic emeralds on her skin. she was pulling a boy toward me and i choked on my own acid drink at the sight of him. wide-eyed, golden-haired, prettier than i was. she placed her ruby red lips near my ear and whispered that he was mine to take.
before i even poured a second drink, we were in the dark and zeke was clawing at the buttons of my blue dress. he left tiny bites on my jaw, my throat, and over the scars on my wrists where my sister used to dig in her nails. i kissed him and kissed him and kept on kissing, down and down and down.
i woke up to see my sister grinning at me, liquor-coated teeth on display. her glitter makeup was smeared everywhere. “did you have fun, dor?” she murmured, winding a finger through one of my flattened curls. i just nodded and rubbed sleep out of my eyes. my face felt bruised, and my wrists stung. i didn’t wonder where zeke had gone.
i found him later, though. we kissed in the dark so many times that i lost count.
i came to realize that zeke wasn’t any braver than i used to be. he rarely spoke, plagued by fears of stumbling over his words. on bad days, he had tremors in his hands—they kept him from pouring his own drinks or handling pills. and whenever my sister came near with her lips wet and her teeth bared, his eyes dropped to the ground, to her red high heels, to where he couldn’t see her shimmering face.
“glinda, what’s love?”
“love doesn’t exist, dor. and if it does, it’s not for girls like us.”
love wasn’t what zeke and i had. we had aching teeth from when he kissed me too hard and sad, soft smiles when he was tired and sober and sometimes i caught him looking through me like i was invisible, a ghost.
“you look like your sister, you know.”
he was tracing circles on my stomach and my mouth went dry.
“how would you know? you can’t even look at her without shaking.”
“forget it, you just, never mind.”
“no, tell me.”
“you have the same smile.”
theme by: heloísa teixeira