#mintwater

delete false gods and drop the steel wool scouring your regrets: they say to be kind to yourself, but watts lived well and died pathetically

i was adrift somewhere in between

when i reached for the divine, the strange plants recoiled before they embraced me, recognizing i hadn't evolved yet, that i was still born into a life of condemnation, still procrastinating my dharma

suddenly, and then all at once -- a rogue planet deviates a fraction of a degree, tectonic plates shift, and your voice quivers. i hear my own cruelty, as the clergy outside of time are silent. they begin to pick up the shards of the mosaic i shattered

God peers through the vanes of vertical blinds --    He is purple, and pink, and orange, and i pull out my phone, like an idiot, capturing the facsimile like it were a dollar store postcard

T was an 80s girl at heart -- indicted by its lyrics and guilty with its synth, drifting some thirty years out of step, but she spent most weeks honing an eternal gift: finding countless ways to boil the sea alive, to turn over its precious pearls, like a hyena cleaning meat

she had the kind of spirit that earns respect in a locked room -- something terrifying, unyielding. something you want on your side

all of our lives are locked rooms

the following years unfolded in a surreal echo, like someone had rewritten time, but left my memories intact -- and i found myself an alien of each day, counting the many ways his soul impressed upon my mind, the many fingerprints of his i knew better than his facts, and sifting through the boundaries of myself only to find a decade of blurred lines

each month passed in an anchorless drift. i rode the slow cerebral waves towards some shore of more delicate truths, and in all the ways his untimely death reset my reality, what i felt the most was a glimpse behind the veil that exposed the magic and betrayed the realism of this life