From Creative Writing

unfinished

agitation is deep/ unseated it’s not safe/ not the kind of agitation/ the agitation you/ can control/ an agitated agitation stirring up riot within/ for what?/ you’re not exactly sure/ But you’re determined/ to keep striking out/ hitting harder to hit deeper/ going wider instead of deeper/ shallow cove of thoughts unfinished/ like everything else in your life/
love you had the last time/ you loved for the last time/ you’ve been loved before and loved after/ but only daring to fall once/ jumping and deciding/ don’t down/ it’s fine/ that’s best and usually only way that it – love – is done… cutting too deep/ sending you, too far

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Descovering Ska

The discovery of Ska in a world that doesn’t know what it’s talking about.

We’re bobbing we’re grooving in a legit dive bar, and what i mean by that kids is that when you order a coke with a shot of whiskey you get a whiskey with a drop of coke, all for three dollars though so drink up kids we’re getting drunk.

the picture on the wall is changing colors molting into something it wasn’t before and wouldn’t be a moment later.

“It’s the lines of perspective. Which side looks closer to you? The light side or the darker side?”

“… The darker”

“Really? Because it should be the lighter…”

“Oh yeah… I’m seeing it. I’m seeing it. … Woah.”

There’s a guy up there with a curled mustache that he’s meticulously waxed. He’s been going out to the car to check it and re-wax it since we got here. He was the first person i saw. I asked from the back of the car if we knew him. “Do we know him?” no one heard me but Jamie rolls down the window pulls up slow and they start talking, about i don’t remember because i’d taken a big hit off Rina’s new pin when we stopped by her place to pick her up. Probably took too big of a hit but is there such a thing naw.

Now the guy in the middle, a younger Claude Monet type guy with his shock white beard and subtle plaid green golfer cap on, he belongs among the lilies, and he’s shorter than me which isn’t a big deal for man nor woman since i’m five-ten. He begins singing in another language. A language of the beach. I’m so high I no longer understand english. I turn to Rina after a few beats and ask “Are they singing in English?” because like any experienced stoner; I know that when things seem weird the first thing to do is check in with another to see what their reality holds that’s different than my own. “No. He’s just making things up.” “What?” “He’s not singing in any language.” The confusion on my face remains. “He’s not singing words. He’s just making up words and sounds.” Eye widen. Mouth forms ‘O.’ Rina’s laughing. I turn back towards the stage. *what is happening what is happening* Stun gunned down by the men singing in tongues.

I throw my hands up and let the music take me letting out haphazard laughs Rina and Jamie are ahead of me they turn and look back at me later, later Rina tells me, “I love your face” “Quel?” “It’s so honest. You express genuine wonder. Unlike Jamie and I. We’re just dead in side and make snide jokes.”

people tell me that…

Special Thanks to: Jamie – for getting Rina and I to go out, Monkey – for being my first and raddest Ska band, and Claude Monet – for the water lilies.

BumblePie

today – Molly killed a bee. She didn’t mean too. She was on the phone – headphones if you will – with her bestie Abi.
She’s high because she always is and was pacing around outside her favorite coffee shop – current favorite – because they get better connection outside – that’s what he said *high fives herself* – when she stepped on a little leaf that crunched like a bug and thinks ‘oh I think i just killed a wasp.’ Because where she’s from there’s yellow-jackets and ain’t no fucking around with them so in her mind – before picking up her foot – she’d done a good thing; a favor to society and it’s susceptibility to getting stung.
and then she lifted her converse.

THE WORLD IS HAVING A FUCKING HONEY CRISIS AND FUCKING MOLLY IS SMITING BEEESSSSS

She buried it under a tree.

Not a word was spoken. The beehives all were broken.

so bye bye mr. bumble-bee guy i drove my converse over your body so of course you died
the future children are eating plain cheerios
singing all i want is to see the mystic bee-hives

How Alone They Are

i wanna run until my body withers away

until the ache in my soul goes away

until the pain in my somache is gone

until the muscel spasms stop

until my heart ceases to be

until i’m no longer me

they don’t tell you this, but sometimes all you can do is run. it’s not an act of shame yes it is a loss of control but it’s a loss of something greater the loss of believing that those around you will understand and accept you for who and where you are.

when you’ve done all you can do. to try and love them. to love them. to be there to be what they want to answer their “try me’s” when you say they won’t understand after staring blankly at them and their lies of ‘i understand’ followed by their own life story that has nothing to do with you and who you are and what you’re going through

that’s when you gotta run. it’s not a running away. it’s a getting to a physical space of what you know to spiritually be true. that you are alone and no one sees you. no one can help. and really, they don’t want to. don’t want you. want *you*

she’s not crazy

she’s just the only one who truly knows

yuno_gasai_render_by_ashleytheskitty-dbbomgk.png

how alone they are

house.ghost

there are ghost in this house.ghost of unnamable horror. they drift about like nothing is wrong. one is dying one is not. they’re beautiful the public says they have money the colleagues say look how far they’ve come how far they stepped back how much one has lost one faster than the other stepping into a hole only pal-bearers should fill but not yet

“God I’m so jealous of how skinny she is!” “I know same! That’s like my dream body.”

the clock down the hall.

ticks.

BananaWarrior

she stands proud

blood drips from her spine

life blood draining down

on her chest is strapped the breastplate of righteousness

on her feet she stands the boots of truth strapped on

right left right left wrong

on her head Athena’s crown

she will not be conquered anymore

her emerald eyes burn a fire yellow

her hair radiates power

her arms are strong and sure

her sword is the living word

the earth trembles beneath her very breathe

a light weight loaded to the teeth locked

she will not be tarried with any longer

the clouds tremble and flee before her

the oceans burn up in her glory

she opens her mouth and screams the sirens roar

she will not be captured anymore

crack of earth drip of spine

she’s coming for you this time

hers is a wrath righteous and true

Caesar watch out you’re going to be paid your due

before her a shield of knowing what’s real

confidence is her free will

her belt is made of those who naried dared to loose her

at her back is death he laughs

she has met him before and they agreed

the grave is hers but not today

fear is a will she pays

this time she is on her way

she is running a horse made of fluid stone

rolling over the earth a rollicking tidal storm

feel her wrath taste her blood lick your hands you dogs

she draws back her sword for the death blow she crouches

a gentle purr and chatter

twitter twitter little bird

right left right left wrong

listen to the sound of the temple gong

this time you will taste the truth

this time it will be made clear

“Fuck you all! Taste my fear!”

she strikes.

once

twice

right left right left wrong

banana girl yellow song

thanks and credit to the crazy local 16 year old that shared this with me. you know who you are. 🦄

Stomach Explodes

There’s plenty of cinnamon in the role. when you love them and they don’t love you back… roll. Don’t stick around for them to realize you’re the one. They’re not going to realize that because -to them- you’re not. Sure, I never told them how I felt – but they told everyone how they felt about me. That they weren’t interested and pointed out all my deficiencies.
And now I roll.
The pain won’t end. It builds in my stomach and explodes. But that’s okay. Because I’m on my own. And they’ll find happiness on their own.
They don’t need me as friend or lover. I know. That’s what I love about them …. their strength their beauty even though they don’t see it… but I can never be the one to make them see it. no one can do that; only they can look down and realize their soul their heart shines brighter….

Credit and Thanks to Aston; Maker of the Cinnamon Rolls and tolerator of my #basic photos.