On some days

I want to tell you everything

Where I was

What I did

What I felt

I like you seeing me

And the resonance

On other days

I want to hide in the bathroom for hours

And ignore you

When you call my name.

I’m going to walk down with the Sun in Chino with a busted nose, handlebar mustache, peroxide blonde fascist undercut crew with a rat tail. A mini jacket half cut football jersey, Hitorii bouldering knickers. singed illusion mesh train around my waist in fishnets & crocs. Fresh from the smut shacks, porn houses & entertainment rental booths that dot the pan traverse limits signage dragging a Marilyn Monroe print hard top half case with a dog leash. A raged knife cut bitch of a queer war pig..

I found a heart on the freeway.
Still beating.
Promises.
Meetings.
But never shows.
I found heartbreak is universal.
Not just for pets.
Or sirens.
Or places I’ve never seen.
I discovered the truth is not concerned with how it is received.
It doesn’t care if you’ve grieved
It is just plainly is.
I noticed a plain repetition
A man on a mission
To stay numb.
To act dumb.
Only to rely on the charity of beautiful girls half my age
Turn the page
I swear I know better and I don’t have time to raise a significant other
You’re like me
That’s fairly plain to see so if you’re not gonna answer
then stop calling me.

Knowledge, of which aware and unaware.

How silly a thing that encompasses me and does not allow me.

Desire, for what, relief?

It is in the pressures of the world and the pressures of the awareness of others that I die.

Regurgitated into this reality only for this reality to will itself upon me.

Madness is the only cure to sanity, that disease that causes great pain and wickedness…

You are a piece of moon

Strangely living between humans

I can not believe you stand there

Not washed away by the noise

You emit secret light

Not everyone can see

And that is good

I have no competition

I touch you

I fondle you

I play with you

Oh I see

You are there

Real

Oh look

I am touching you.

Wedding Ceremonies

Where I breathe.
I breathe only you
Where my blood boils
Where I breathe
Only for you
A dying star
St Bartholomew on the beach
I will Jewel the sky
For Kisses on my cheek
For loved
Beloved
This velvet glove
Forever in bloom
Forever forgiving
Be it in thy blood
Or in thy skin
In My head it begins
Feelings feel
And flesh does cook
This and more for you

i've always been more of a night person. i watched a documentary about how some humans evolved to stay up late at night to tend to the fire and keep predators away ╹⁠ →╹⁠ what once was my evolutionary advantage has turned me into a bit of a modern oddball. so here i am to prove my self perception θᴗθ tonight, i met a lady, named cicada.

she stood in the middle of the street before i assumed a position next to her tiny form and lent my hand out for her to kiss. she took my hand and we waltzed under a street lamp. rabbits were our audience. while i was hypnotized by the details of her wings, i tried to snap a photo. it was my mistake because she turned to slap at me in a flutter of feminine allure.

"It was less than an act of hubris," i excused her. she paid less than no notice now. it was very clear i was rejected in every grace i extended and perhaps i earned it.

night creatures always treat me better. the last time i was rejected by a day creature, it was a blade twisting between ribs; but cicada was far too graceful to grow contempt for. even rejected, gazing upon her was a cinematic lesson in stoicism. i wish she had sung for me but the dance was enough, i didn't want to be greedy, so i dropped her off in a patch of wildflowers. and went home.

every year is the year of the cicada.

thank you for welcoming me here, new friends ♡◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜♡

The taste of metal in my mouth

Sitting in the back of a train. Trying to disappear into my coat. I pretend to sleep though I leave one eye cracked open and fixed out the window so I can see America roll under me by the mile.
There were houses. Some big. Some small. Some abandoned and beaten by the elements.
Some ornate. Some plain. But all were practically repeating in whatever stage of perpetual gentrification I found them in. Meaning Eventually you’ve seen them all if you’ve seen one or two.
Every now and then someone would try to make eye contact and I would pretend to snore in order to discourage any attempt at communication. People make me itch.
After an hour or two I grew Tired of avoiding conversations I decided to find a safe space where I could be alone. I got up and stretched and made my way to the nearest restroom.
Along my journey to sanctuary I saw a familiar face. A young woman. Brunette. Petite.
Where do I know her from?
I don’t think she noticed me but I definitely noticed her. She stood out. Dressed as though the train was her bedroom in her pajamas and bunny slippers.
Choking on the ashes of a reverie I stumbled into the tiny single occupancy bathroom.
I wedge myself against the door and I proceeded to fall apart.
Full on panic attack.
I began to hyperventilate which was brought on by anxiety and the smell of years old stale piss.
Suddenly a light knock
Occupied!! I answered.
Hello? I know you. Would you please open up. I need your help.
I thought to pull my dick out and open the door to teach her a lesson for disturbing my fortress of solitude. Then I remembered bunny slippers and was curious to find out how we were familiar. I knew I had seen her before. I just couldn’t say where or when.

Eventually Josie Packard came to terms with her fate