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To-Do List: June 201502-06-2015 When it comes to bleeding she always second guesses herself02-06-2015 Walk towards the sun04-06-20215 Lions on mars04-06-2015 Cats don't nap, they meditate05-06-2015 PEANUTS, PEBBLES AND PENIS!13-06-2015 She is not her self, she is everyone else's13-06-2015 God bless revs and mdma14-06-2015 Trains like bats14-06-2015 Rabbits howling at the moon17-06-2015 When you think about it, vaginas are a lot like biscuits25-06-2015 These strawberries are making my nipples jealous
To-Do List: May 201505-05-2015 The family of arts11-05-2015 Love eletters12-05-2015 in death there is knowing18-05-2015 Bruises on her meridian18-5-2015 More like too fucking late23-05-2015 She is literally 'the little death'28-05-2015 Breakfast epiphanies28-05-2015 Monks with laptops28-05-2015 A tender cervix
Sol Nigerin theblacknesswe findthe light
To-Do List: April 201501-04-2015 It is the truth.03-04-2015 There is nothing quite as bad as incest03-04-2015 Heavens gate is like a dentists waiting room03-04-2015 The fish man has all the power03-04-2015 It has nothing to do with catholicism06-04-2015 A blank piece of paper is just as important as a full one07-04-2015 Your constellations are many and varied07-04-2015 Focus becomes so much more important when you can't see clearly08-04-2015 The future is not the end08-04-2015 The art of layering10-04-2015 Always living other peoples relationships15-04-2015 Making promises to mama15-04-2015 The feeling of knowing and actually knowing are different15-04-2015 When your love is the thing that holds them here17-04-2015 Hopeful for the future18-04-2015 Oh, the drop is real19-04-2015 Sometimes being is enough19-04-2015 It's a pigshead hat!20-04-2015 Beetroot or blood20-04-2015 A strange kind of heartbreak21-04-2015 Little and often21-04-2015 Keep the bracelet, give back the ring and the key2
Still Thinking About Youat 24i was toldby a 28year oldthat my friends marriagewould failthat i was too youngto understandfour yearsthat's alljust four yearsdifference"but a lifetime of mineand a lifetime of yoursthey're so different!you can't say ageis the onlyfactor..."she didn't listen.turns outshe's still learningjust like me
To-Do List: March 201501-03-2015 When books say the words you have in your heart02-03-2015 Gums that feel like glass02-03-2015 Heat rash a reminder of where you've been02-03-2015 Waving at train drivers02-03-2015 And then they were gone04-03-2015 She wears her skeleton on the outside10-03-2015 Making sense of other peoples scribbles10-03-2015 Hands like her mothers12-03-2015 Cats and orgasms13-03-2015 Whisky conversations15-03-2015 Pre-sneezing16-03-2015 A heavy heart is hard to hold16-03-2015 I know where my soul resides16-03-2015 Be something good17-03-2015 Nag champa and crickets18-03-2015 Figs and tea19-03-2015 In search of eels24-03-2015 The best sex she's never had29-03-2015 He dreams in watercolours
To-Do List: February 201502-02-2015 FCFB banana juice02-02-2015 Standing up like an old lady02-02-2015 Sleepy little suburb02-02-2015 My weeks revolve around thursdays06-02-2015 Laughter on trains07-02-2015 A goddess, poetry and a fallen angel09-02-2015 Propensity for density15-02-2015 Ask your mother about a black and white cat16-02-2015 Dogs at patting height16-02-2015 Pumpkin porn18-02-2015 For as long as it lasts because that's not forever18-02-2015 How many people are just people? or do we all have gods inside of us.27-02-2015 The difference between knowing and not knowing is tears
A Cat's Promisefor as longas it lasts
Mot Familiarwe will walkin the shadowstogetheryour lightand our darknessforever
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisDo not assume (if I hold the door for you),that I am making a statementabout your inabilitiesto open the door for yourself.If you hold it for me,I'll say 'thankyou'.Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),that I am underestimatingyour earning capacityas a woman.If you invite me out for a meal,you're paying.Do not assume (if I defend your rights),that I am belittlingthe attempts that you have madeto defend your rights yourself.If you defend my rights,I'll consider you human.
Rhyming in PoemsWhy do you all want to rhymeall the time?You don't need to do it,that's perfectly fine.You think it's so coolAnd it leaves poems gleaming,But it desecrates flowAnd can ruin the meaning.It's so bad to rhythm,It's like a bad dayYou wonder why you're notSleeping it away.You think it's the rootOf your writing's salvation,But we all will hate you,All parts of the nation.You think it sounds niceBut you don't even knowHow ruined the sound isHow badly it 'goes'.So the irony's over,Your poems can mend,I'll stop myself here,Before you meetYour end.
How to love a girl who can't love herself.one. When she cries herself to sleep six out of seven nights a week you must say nothing. You must simply take her in your arms and kiss her gaunt, pale cheeks and wait for her to slumber at the sound of your heart.two. On the days where she wishes she were part of the stars, tell her no. Tell her that there are too many lights in the sky and that just one would be forgotten the moment you looked away from it. Tell her that she is perfect the way she is: completely human.three. Don't let her think about the scars that no one but her can see. If she says "I think I'm broken" smile like you know a secret and say, "No, you're mending." But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
We've neglected the lessonsour generationhas stomped on the gravesof our ancient ancestor's bodiesburied deep beneath muted earth tones,and we've dug up their bonesand thrown them against cavern walls,do you hear their beckoning calls?we told youwe told youwe told you alland our generationhas sold our soul to the devilbecause the devil wears Prada, Moschino, or Coach,the devil doesn't care about thegrumbling tummies of our skeleton childrenor their parched tongues,can you hear their bones rattling like our ancestors?do you hear their echoing calls? we told youwe told youwe told you all our generation sayswe march to the beat of our own drumbut it seems we stole this drumfrom the old man at the music shopwho couldn't make enough to pay for his own skin,to cover his crumbling bonesor maybe we've built this drum from his ashes,because of what use are old men,whose bodies could have been in an antique shopis that the beat of the drum, or a whimpering call? we told you
Our generationcigarette smokeandalcoholthe fumesembeddingin the wallcocaine linesin bathroomstalls:our generation,we have it allmisguided teens,with dying dreams(poured down the drainby languid veins)the clinking of glassesand racing hearts,we cannot stopwhat we did startit's all an escape- a sick paradox:we're runningfrom ourselves.
don't write poems for fuckboys.youare not perfect.you beginmiles beneath that golden line,all sweat and sinewand broken hearts,sheets stainedwith the hungerof a hundred different girls.youare not perfect.handsomelike a fool, agraceful maelstromwhipping through thewhippoorwills andkissing birdsongdown my spine.youare not perfect.I can seethat scar on your hip,the achilles heel in yoursafeword,animalcaged and calculatingthe next best wayto rip intomy fresh meat.youare not perfect.but your skin tastes likevodka.eyes blazingobsidian, tonguemurmuring sweetnessagainst my name,you area hunterwith far too willinga prey.youare not perfect.but you carry your charismalike a thunderstorm,and you smile like you knowI am aching for the rain,and you -well, you can call me babywhenever you damn wellplease.
UnusualUp to datewith crossing outnumbers.