Thursday, January 14, 2016

Blood and Beets #Nohashtag

1. Tell the story of Little Eight John, but not in dialect
2. Know your limbs are filled with electric stiffness that makes you less human, and everybody knows you are a robot.
3. Get tired, get fast
4. When you look at another corner of the room the light and shadow changes entirely. Perspective.
5. Are you one of the elite few whose immense beauty cannot be captured on the screen?
6. Look up the various spellings of your last name, involving the town of Parketin.
7. I am hearing all of your words melt into my cells but not my ears. You are turning my heart compost, every day.
8. I told you yesterday that there would be words and directions coming soon, from Lord Above from Sky God from Great Mystery, soon they would appear at my fingertips and show me exactly what to do.
9. Consulting every Ouija board
10. When I hear you telling the truth to somebody else, and it is not the same truth you tell me.
11. That's why nobody likes you
12. Watching caterpillars writhing on the floor
13. Your brain and its microbes
14. Memes are memories are games, #tbt #thatfeel #thatmemory #thatghost #alanrickman #davidbowie
15. I want to receive my award for not caring passionately about the deaths of these beautiful people, they were never real people to me, I don't get it. They are beautiful, but they were not my friends. They were symbols and stories and legends and myths and I didn't know them and everything I know about them still exists. I don't relate to the experience of feeling disproportionately, famously sad about famous deaths.
16. What about the children?
17. Antidepressants still, mourning with a smile
18. House of fire, molasses, smoke, clay, wood, matted fur
19. Orange peels and coffee grounds and cats in the front yard
20. Your belly is more orange and cloudy than ever
21. This is home, still.
22. 2016 more moments.
23. Try to write critically, and come back to snippets pulses poetry hashtags
24. Fortress
25. Thoughts of the escape during the walk, the wrench in the routine, the 7 mile jog the long distance swim with whales the unexpected derive the poem that spilled accidentally out of your guts the phone call the dream of packing all of the belongings, mismatched rusty earrings, ornaments, and heirlooms. I am always leaving tomorrow at 4pm and there is no way to carry all of my belongings from here today.
26. It is a shadowy sterile place where the eyes are watching us and asking why didn't you stay here in this safe place where you would receive all of somebody else's treasures?

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