writing & art

there's a memory that replays in my mind of an italian street performer and a sword that disappears as it enters his mouth. i envision blood and wounds. and in my mind, my swollen throat feels just the same.

the sword can travel as far as my chest and sends an electric shock to the sciatic nerve in my back. i feel lightheaded.

the palest i can be is the second after my throat closes. the blood pools at the back of my throat and my ears ring. frozen, i try to detach immediately.

what is it about me that makes people stop caring? is it the inherent badness that sits between my sins and my lies and all the times i was less than perfect?

i don't know how long i can drag my heavy head through this life feeling like i am not enough. my back is breaking from carrying the weight of all this rejection.

i think about what you said to me, about us not being compatible, and i sob. i hiccup and hold my breath in a failed attempt to control my breath.

when i was a kid, i used to think heaven was just above the clouds. every year we released balloons on aunt laurie's birthday so she knew we were celebrating her. it was so easy to believe heaven could be so close to me back then.

the first time my grandma went to the hospital, heaven became a place better than here. i imagined that when she went to heaven, she would be able to walk again. in my innocent child's mind, the clouds would be a trampoline.

i leave my childhood and turn my head to look at him. there is a perfect curl sitting on his brow and his eyes softly reflect the dim light of the stars above us. 

i ask him what he thinks about heaven. he tells me about the people that make it there and how its light shines through the clouds. he asks me why i’m asking and i tell him it’s for science — another one of our experiments.

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wait. don’t watch that video.

do not worry about a thing. the videos of the children being shot are deepfakes made by the woke left to make us all ashamed of being American.

they forget that we are the perfect country. the most beautiful and big country in the entire world.

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as your friend, i really recommend you take advantage of this one-of-a-kind offer as soon as possible. the flood waters are rising and my backyard is on fire.

remember your place. remember your place. remember your place. if i say it three times and shake my head then i can live with it. but in truth, i am having a hard time not knowing. 

i don’t mean it, i’m sorry. i am always more sorry than you can ever know. i recite my contrition but the guilt lingers in my throat and my chest and itches in my head. stop. stop. stop. 

there is no giving up here. i will wait until it kills me and try to be a person you might be able to love out loud. in the street, to my friends, to everyone except our families. 

i want to know if you want to love me. if this is just a distraction or am i someone you would be happy to see each morning. 

i think about how i have never kissed anyone as much as i’ve kissed you. admittedly, i had been considerably celibate in the time between then and now, and i never knew that this was something i could feel safe in.

now, my heaven is the space between your legs where i lay my head to rest. i am here as an act of love, of service, of devotion. i love this way i can be close to you.

after everything, you kiss me, and i think this is the closest i have ever been to you. we have a moment where we stop and accidentally catch the breath of the other. i think this is the closest i have been to anyone.

as the sun begins to pour in to the room, we lay in a peaceful silence. the only sound being my breath against yours. to me, a deep breath has the same rhythm as being in love with you.

baby, stay here in the dark water with me, no one can see you with the lights this low. i can hide you from all the evil spirits that live in your mind and come for you at night.

place your fast beating heart in my chest, baby. give me all that you cannot carry with you. the weight of the times you were loved wrong is mine now, you never need to hold them alone again.

oh, baby, come and live within me. try to remember all the times you needed me and i was there. i know it was so long ago, but i protected you then and i can do it again.

the ssris stifle the tears that usually keep me company in this state, so i am left all alone now

i feel like i am always taking one step forward and two steps back

this sharp pain in my chest reminds me that every time i give, i am not accepted

a lesson never learned, i suppose

there was once a time when i would have given everything, but there is so much less of me now

so many small breaks have only enforced the walls i keep around myself

if i never give, then i can never be rejected

i can’t help but try to love and i have never met anyone who tries to love me too

tonight it is just me and the sound of the air filling the humid summer evening

i wish for someone to love me the way i should be loved but i fear it will never come

i am so tired and ready to give in to the depression again

i’ve always loved the bakeries and florists that have made themselves a staple in the park. sometimes, i think of buying you flowers from the stand with the lilies. that desire comes to me despite our collective understanding that buying flowers is a waste of money. secretly, i think it’s very beautiful still. to take beauty from the earth and give it to your love, it’s special.

it’s been a long time since i’ve felt special, but i think i am anyway.

i stop and wonder at the bouquets, remembering a time when there were fresh flowers on my windowsill every week. looking back, those gifts feel more like a transaction.

you’re meeting me at the train station and i am protecting my heart. i still stop by a bakery and buy you a croissant. i do not buy the flowers, but you must know that you are special to me anyway.

when we are together i’m afraid to accept anything from you, fearing another transactional relationship. maybe i don’t want to believe it’s in earnest. if you love me why do you hurt me?

the street is filled with women in love. all around me are people who drift to sleep in each others’ arms each night. the light in their eyes is unique to a lesbian's way of loving.

by now, i have forgotten what it feels like to spend a night in the embrace of someone i love. to see anyone look at me with that sparkle is rare. i am not sure i have ever truly seen anyone look at me with those stars in their eyes.

you aren’t thinking of me tonight but i am seeing visions of you in my dreams. this quiet and beautiful reverie is always the same. you and i sit on the porch of an old small house as our older selves. we reached a year that was unattainable to our twelve year old minds.

our cat sits in your lap because he secretly likes you more and i read my book aloud for you to hear. every day is easy for us and i feel serenity all around me.

tonight i'm drunk and remembering how it felt to be seventeen and in love for the first time. i stopped chasing that high so long ago, but i fear i am going after it again now. our bespoke love has never left my heart and still strikes a fire in my chest.

minutes after getting this advice, i give her some advice on her newest situation. I say, "you have to stop begging for her to love you. you don't belong anywhere you are not desired."

am i a hypocrite? maybe. but right now, my friend and i are laying on the floor wondering where everything went wrong for us. i tell her that white people don't believe in anything and she sighs in agreement. her observation is that there is nothing for them to stand for. to stand up means to stand against their own people, and i have never known any to do that for me.

my friend asks me if i feel loved and i flash a smile at her, replying, "do you?"

i do not feel loved by anyone but me, really. and that's okay. but, in the middle of the night, when i lay in my lonely bed, i wonder how long i will be cursed with that feeling.

i don’t think you need me. (funny, usually that’s the line i hear) so, here i stand, on the other side of those words, waiting like a dog at your feet. i am ready to go anywhere in the world with you. 

i’m not sure anyone really needs me. i wonder, i dread, that i am not important in your life. if you don’t need me then who will?

with this i am brought back to all the times i felt discarded or ignored or unloved. the moments when everything felt like a punishment for some inherent evil within me.

my friends advise me that this isn’t healthy. as they attempt an intervention, my thoughts drift to you. your eyes, your smile, your lips; i get lost in the memory of your embrace. if this hurts me so much why do i keep doing it?

all sound advice falls on deaf ears. there is nothing that could make me stop loving you. 

i cried over you last night while you embraced me. ironic, maybe. but you’re the only person i have ever felt safe to fall into. you are the only person who has laid eyes on my heart. 

my ultimate truth is i love you. so much more than you know. i have always loved you and wished the best for you.

mommy, i had a dream that someone took me away. or gave me away. why does everyone want to have me but not love me, mommy?

yesterday i cried because the kids at school treated me different. i dont know why everyone thinks im different from them, but i know they don't like me.

mommy, are you listening to me? i know you’re busy but i think that there's something wrong with me. i can't sleep without the lights on and i cant eat in the mornings.

mom, when are you coming home? is there dinner in the fridge?

where is she, mom? what's she like? i want to find my mommy, because i know she's not you.

mommy, are you looking for me? i'm looking for you but i'm not sure where to start.

don't tell anyone, mommy, but i want you to come take me away. the people who live here don't love me and i hope you'll get it right.

hi mommy, you found me. i looked for you. i thought of you. i imagined you as a princess or a pop star or a spy, but i think you're something better. i think you're my mommy.

it's okay that you couldn't keep me, mommy. i know you did all you could. it's okay. you came back.

i don’t mind that you fell in love with someone else. it’s what i wanted for you, after all. secretly, i’m afraid of people loving me because they always do it wrong anyway.

the one thing i am sure of is that i loved you wrong. today got drunk and told a girl in the bar that it was all my fault. "i was bad from the beginning", i said.

i used to think of you and feel comfort in the belief that leaving you was for your benefit. that maybe this sacrifice would be worth it. but now i'm here, and i've done you wrong again.

all of this is very selfish of me, i'm sorry. i just thought...my ego got caught up in everything, i guess. or maybe it was just the bipolar. who knows.

i am sorry you had to be the first thing i ruined.

tonight you're calling her the name you called me and i am getting high alone in my bedroom. if my mind is too quiet i remember that i am hurt, so i keep the music playing.

last night, i dreamt of being in your car, kissing you and knowing it was all wrong.

i’m happy you’re in love. i was afraid i ruined it for you. i ruin everything.

that dream moved me outside of my idle “love” and reminded me of when i had something meaningful. i used to imagine a life with you back then.

i’m sorry. i know you’re in love. i remind myself that you don’t love me, i am almost comforted by the idea of this. if you are in love with another then you could never fall out of love with me.

i think i once told you that i didn’t love you. i’m sorry. i was just a kid and everything felt so wrong. i feel like i’m serving a penance for all the false feelings i shared with you back then.

i would like to kiss you, but i have this recurring nightmare that we would fall apart again. i am stuck to someone, anyway.