i think to describe my dog accurately you would need to start with a cat.
after taking that cat and making each appendage slightly longer than it should have been, and after making its head too short and too long all at the same time, give it an attitude so fearless that it will make a daily occurance of standing on the dining table, staring you right in the eyes, and shaking its tiny white body so that hair shoots out in all directions, after which it will hop down (while maintaining that eye contact) and trot away (most likely to go piss on your favorite pillow) this might be the reason why we call him the tiny asshole but on the other hand, that might also be due to the mysterious pieces of shit that appear out of nowhere which our roomba then scoots around the house and leaves in inconspicious places, although the origin of these poos has never been directly discovered, anxious dog gives the telltale sign of cowering in the doorway whenever they are guilty so that just leaves the tiny asshole as always
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this morning, slipped in between the moments of stirring and sleep
as the dawn crept through my window pane pulling my room out from underneath the darkness of night my arm fell asleep, pins and needles quickly dehumanizing my once intuitive limb making it incredibly unrecognizable to the rest of me incompatible, alien even, moving it slowly to rest upon my cheek I imagined it to be someone else's the who didn't entirely matter, just that they were concrete someone to share my bed with, holding tightly my hand as they slept the idea of them cut like a hot knife through my loneliness and as the feeling slowly faded, and my flesh became my own again I felt as though I had lost a friend when glass shatters around you
the safest place to be is right where you currently are no shards can exist beneath your planted feet the question left, then is how long do you want to live surrounded by glass stuck in place.
dad hung up the christmas lights today
he says that now they're halloween lights (he set them to purple and orange) apparently they're the newest thing, programmable lights, we'll keep them up for thanksgiving, he said, easter even! who in the world has ever heart of easter lights. dad hung up the christmas lights today, anyway, he did it to make me happy, as if that was a thing I could be nowadays. I remember getting up in the night, as a child, walking to the living room and staring- stunned there was no feeling that could compare to my christmas lights, tendrils of joy and magic hanging just beyond reach, that's where the dreams lived, where holiday spirits hid until the weather turned, then out popped their rosy cheeks, hello! we've missed you, they'd cheer, you are safe. you are loved. dad hung up the christmas lights today, well- excuse me, "halloween lights" as if halloween was a thing that could happen nowadays, along with the comatose present-induced high I would've arrived at the following day: the first of a new year- a new me. dad hung up the christmas lights today, the colors shocked me as I walked past on my way to bed, something bubbled up from my depths, and wondered what right they had to assault me with happy memories, to remind me of friends and costumes and joy and magic. I came to the conclusion they had fuck all right, and went to sleep. dad hung up the christmas lights today, and I hate them. lovely children, soft and warm
step into my hall of thorn don't you wimper, don't you flee for all will be put right, you see lovely bones and lovely eyes wearing innocence's disguise hear them whisper, hear them creep running, bounding, soaring, leap arms of satin, jaws of ice have some fun but don't play nice all is fair in war, they say but what is fairness anyway scales that tell you wrong from right better to be out of sight if virtue lies beneath the soil then dig me six feet down to spoil and from my plot will grow great things with horny hooves and devil's wings so hush my children- do not scare now step inside my thorny lair we'll play a game, of don't yet leave there's much to do this hallow's eve. there is a shallow place, between the weeds and rocks and harbored shores, where I feel limitless. this in itself is a terrible feeling. limits define what we should dream to be, who we become when our feet hit the cold wooden floors and we rub the dew from our lips each morning. where we eat and sleep and love, who we are today, if not tomorrow or yesterday. limitless is none of these safeties. I feel cold and distant with my ankles submerged, the tide pulling me deeper into comfort but my feet stuck- cemented in the sand. I want to go deeper, I moan to no one, for my language cannot be spoken or heard, I don't want to feel. I do not know why I first stepped into the sea, but it was a gradual type of consequence. No one in their right mind would see what was left of me afterand still venture deeper- further beyond. I've been torn to shreds from the inside out, a ripping that you can just ignore fro a while, until the blood fills your lungs and you begin to drown. drowning in your own life, the blood which moves your limbs and pumps your heart, killing you silently. when my heart beats too quickly that pulse of red shoots up through the spaced which air should have been, up and up until it should be seeping out my mouth. Until I should have ruined my blouse and spat up upon the concrete- Look at my life! Look how it kills me! -But no one can hear the screams in my head, and when I speak in your language the words come out wrong and twisted and sad. I am not sad, my friend, I am dying of living and there is no cure. Please stop asking me to translate into a language that does not exist- I do not know how to talk to you -silence is my only friend.
how does one go from love to indifference
in just three short weeks? well, it was easier to convince myself that you never loved me at all than to understand why you suddenly stopped. you can worry and fret
'til you're blue in the face but the clock carries on at the same steady pace don't forget all your troubles but set them aside for the moonlight's upon us and the night has arrived lay your head down beside me help drink in the moon when the dawn rears her head it will be far too soon i am the teeter at the edge of the cliff face
i am the whistle of seabreeze through wandering pine i am the babble of distant brooks too far off to be heard i am the bear in her den waiting for this never-ending winter to cease to conclude i am whatever you want me to be- but not when you want it i am wherever i wish to go- but not when i wish it i am halfway and almost and so close to, the end of me is the start of you the willow branch outside my cabin
window brushes gently against the glass, she calls out into the silent hollow in marbled tongues long-forgotten by the fur coats of loggers and the straw wands wedged between the farmer's teeth she beckons me to join her -to follow- and with silver fingers traces the road i am to travel i marvel in her gorgeous, for a moment. before i tuck my head back beneath grandmother's worn woolen blanket and slip back to reality waking up in the morning knowing i won't eat until noon has gotten easier
normally i would absent-mindedly shovel food into my mouth simply because that is what happens when you wake up you eat we subconciously tie food to so many parts of our daily life that when you take a step back and soak it all in it's no wonder we have an obesity crisis in this country almost every social convention we take part in links to food holidays, birthdays, movies, celebrations to see our friends and loved ones we go out for coffee we have business meetings over dinner and dates over brunch we buy each other food as gifts and apologies our successes are praised through sweets and carbs we're almost like lab rats being conditioned to conform schools give out candy for good grades and attendance parents use it to bribe children into good behavior "don't complain about your health benefits- here we'll give you free donuts on fridays" being "good"- successful, hardworking, cooperative is rewarded with rainbow colored sugar and fat until at some point we have conditoned outselves to rely on it like all other drugs, we begin using it to regulate our happiness but depravation only breeds a deeper hunger I feel like I'm building up a brick wall to try and hold back a tsunami
Like I'm building dunes on the beach only to watch the tide come in and return them to nothingnesss nothingness I've never known a word to hold a greater density than that one When at last the dust begins to settle
after this eruption of a year I hope to see DC burning Flames hopping from tower to tower black ash falling from that white building children painting war stripes with the mud of their trampled tears If I believed in a god I would say they were angry Angry at how we murder our brothers Angry at how we put the hateful up on pillars Angry at our fucked up society which we refuse to rebuild even as the foundation crumbles But I have to ask, even if we saw this coming would we have changed a thing? some nights, almost always past eleven
you look into the mirror, not at yourself -a real human person- but straight into those two dark circles and you hate every square inch of you those dots go back miles and they are full of sludge and muck and disarray your hands are clammy your face oozes from each uneven pore and you finally look upon yourself -a real human person- and wonder what the fuck you're still doing it for you looked at me
like autumn leaves like ballerina dewdrops like sweet cranberry skies you looked at me you smiled at me like rainbows in the winter like shelter in the tropic like driftwood in bermuda you smiled at me for the last time am i in love with you, or the idea that you love me?
but how could i love you when i do not love anything about myself? how could i love you when i do not remember what love feels like except falling so deep into someone who doesn't want to be fallen into, i fall and i hit the ground and instead of picking up my own broken pieces i tape myself together and help you, catch you, cushion your fall so you don't hit as hard empathy is a prison but you are both prisoner and guard not one without the other, not full without another's emptiness i am too empty to be filled, so i'll give away pieces of myself until there is nothing left, and then i'll hold that shell of a person in my tired hands, and feel content. some people taste colors
some only see reds and greens or black and white some smell sound or light and I, I see words not in the way you write or spell but words swirl around in my head like big bubble letters I'll listen to a song and see the lyrics flowing in and out behind my pupils sometimes there are too many, a sensory overload, of music and chatter and words words words words they're blinding these words are never one thing, some flash neon or swirl around some flow up and down some left and right but when there are no words when the music goes mute and the voices recede there is still white noise to fill my vision and the water fills my ears we are not born wicked
but it seeps in throught the cracks in baby bassinets in through an open window when the wind howls with pain it wraps us up in wicked until the cold starts to feel familiar we are not born wicked but we learn we learn from the way fathers answer the telephone the way mothers answer the doorbell passed on through generations the wicked colors our blood red and our bones white traumatized we are all traumatized I'll show you mine if you show me yours peel back skin and memory and metaphor show me the red and white show me how your body has learned to hate just as it learned to walk and ride a bike naturally, you can't unlearn the things that keep you human hate keeps us human divisions in our culture cut like lines in the sand nonexistant yet uncrossable step on a crack break your country's back and crumble and fall down the rabbit hole we are not born wicked you are the victim of the victimization of others make it your fault you said that you loved me you said that I'd never really know how much I meant to you you said that we were going to be friends forever you wrote it in my yearbook freshman year you said that you were struggling and I gave you compassion when you didn't say anything at all I was your silent companion one night you said "thank you for everything, goodbye" so I called her up and kept you alive after when I didn't know what to say you said it would be fine when I was dark and down and depressed you played our songs you called me up at midnight when you had gotten high you had me sing to you I said "be safe, I love you" you said that you loved me now when I ask you you tell me that you hurt me now you say that I'm just too hard to bare now when I'm near you, you put in your music and I guess you pretend I don't even exist now you don't say anything but not in the same way as before now you don't meet my eye across the room now when I have my bad days there isn't a warm hand on my shoulder nobody says that it's gonna be alright now you ignore me, without giving me a reason my texts deliver with no reply you cut me off kicked me out without as much as a warning you must think that I'm fine alone that my life without you isn't empty and cold I guess you never knew, never cared that I needed you I guess now you never will I guess you're really gone I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like I guess I was wrong |
meet the authorhey! i'm piper and i posts by date
November 2020
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