I, The Robot

binary creates a tether the moment anything begins

front end overload--starting point is bulbous, information dump

going forward is tenuous, prior data already having been run through

processors to determine relative decency

my movement now tracked through following agreements

as I track hers

dislike or affection are only minor factors

my physical is a whirlwind, my digital is ordered [compatibility check]

know that i love you [all]

but verbal, mental, physical contact do not come easily to me anymore

you:

the best people we can find in this rocky slab of a world

are the diamonds in the rough

diamonds: compact, incredibly strong, perfected under scrutiny and ages of pressure

when they screamed at you in binary code

you spoke softly in watercolors

when their ignorance made them afraid

you forged a path from the iron of your own courage

and began to lead them to the understanding that would build them a solid ground.

my smol friend

you are still a seedling, ivy climbing an immense wall

but I am so proud of how you grow

and even if they can’t or aren’t ready to, 

I can see the sun glinting off of your blossoms, off the waxy surface of your outstretched leaves

and it is glorious

<3

SPACE

I’m sure someone has written this metaphor already

but the moles on your back look like stars

but only in a city area

because they’re pretty far apart

like light pollution has blurred most of them out

I like looking for constellations on your skin

making stories out of the map of your body

your pupils black holes

you said that our galaxy might be in the inside of a black hole

looking this deep into your eyes

i believe it

the star flare of your irises is as impressive to me as the breadth of the universe

My Ex(s?) (this is only tangentially related to my exes) (i will maybe do another exes poem later)

I think we find what we need./A mirror, an anchor, a push/someone to coddle, to provoke, to mend. 

I used to judge my lovers on what they could challenge me with; they proved their worth by opening my eyes before they could open my legs. 

Now I’m learning to find beauty in smaller things

a nylon string, gently vibrating/bronze curl, twisting its way down to rest on a cheekbone/the trail of fingertips

relaxing into who I am, into learning about who you are and who you dream of becoming

SEASONS CHANGING

they don’t

we’ve created an oven of our own exhaling

outside liquidates as the center cools to solidity

hoary headed frosts

a circlet of summer buds

is as in mockery set

The fairies are fighting

infidelity is everywhere and the world is rebelling

kind of cheating because i had it written already but this is an edited version

@st-molly

her body is a crescent moon,

her eyelids eclipses

planet irises

sharp shoulders, bone epaulets

white knees

stocking and leather girl

hallucinogens and weekday shots

skeleton and makeup

pink satin and cigarette smoke

The last living dryad; tough bark of apathy and expletives

she scratches at passersby, fighting to maintain the

untouched, soft interior of her still-growing body

she’s a creature of barn-rafters,

upside-down claws into pith

word creature, languages shifting

under her skin, spilling out her mouth,

itching to crawl out of her fingertips

adorned in

bright pattern cotton wings, flowing cloth skin

an eccentric, dangerous butterfly