It goes like this: baby daughter dreams, waking up sobbing, teeth and tongue, stupefaction, the desire to teach you everything of me before your real parents get home, the desire to die before my parents, for my life to be contained within theirs, bone marrow, stained glass, weekend sunlight, the mornings, pancakes, guitar picks, streams of undifferentiated language, pure delight, the conservative’s phantasmic history, the homosexual’s tragedy, we all deserve a tragedy, the so-called divorce in contemporary women of tenderness and strength, real estate square metreage, European cities, temporary contracts, downward mobility, the irreproducibility of the nuclearity into which we were born, forced sublimation, another abandoned project, tutoring, teaching, a “novel”, therapy, becoming too invested in my little students, tears of anger in the car, in their kitchen with their fathers, advising them on everything but calculus, being patient with the things they want to show me in their bedrooms, saying oh I’m just an eldest sister, saying crazy things in romance, your hair plus my height, we’ll be the first two women, like two new Virgin Maries, getting down on one knee, oxytocin, the lust for anachronism, false biology, false climate, impossible economics, the lust to know nothing of the Real, in the very process of hurtling towards it, down a dark well, guided by premonitions: names and loves felt behind the eyelids…
amandla
areudirty
dailybridgerton
jacobvanloon
2087
prguitarman
