priorities

you said, communicating with me was not a priority

well, i knew that to be true long before i ever left new york

but thank you for the reminder

sometimes i forget things

for example, i can't remember the name of the girl you became so obsessed with

while we were still together

the one who was engaged to a man

and didn't even want you

and i can't remember

who's laptop you stole

at a house party in your 20s

when you couldn't (or wouldn't) find a job that actually paid your rent

i don't remember the name of the music producer 

you told me used the sound of your orgasm in a track

- before we started dating

it is funny to me, how you have a type

you're really good at finding the talented people in a room

imagine how things could have been,

if you found yourself 

maybe that's all the "work" you're doing now

the work that doesn't actually pay your debts

i didn't know it was possible to hate someone i once loved

but i've experienced a lot of firsts with you

lots of things i wish i'd just forget

archiving stills

i’m looking at these photos she took

three, almost four years ago

can’t tell 

if she was particularly good at photography

if the camera was particularly flattering

if she aged me

time has simply passed

and i wish i took the time to go through these photos myself

there are not many, but a few

where i am actually smiling

lots where i am trying so hard to be sexy

trying so hard to be serious

when i was mostly surrounded by completely unserious people

can’t help but cry when i see a flash of teeth

1/30/23 at 2:34PM [NY]

i’m here again

eyes glazed over a cup of mediocre coffee

free, next to the assortment of teas
(stay AWAKE, feel ZEN)

i keep opening up my texts, 1 unread badge leading to nowhere

i think i’ve read them all? over and over again?

i have convinced myself i’ve been feeling the effects of PMS

for three weeks, 

though i’m sure that’s not how menstrual cycles work

i have been working, i think?

sending emails and taking calls

reassuring multiple parties that everything is handled

that it’s all under control

i’d love to hire someone like me

to do that for me

but i learned these techniques and strategies 

by being scolded for being realistic 

for telling the truth

and being reasonably frustrated

part of my job is to pretend everything is okay

when it isn’t

this job is like that

and my other job is in a lot of ways

also like that

i’ve never liked working 

even if i’m quite good at it

my old boss called me a workhorse 

used to say i “knew where everything was buried”

i don’t want to keep track of skeletons

i want to bloom incessantly 

even when the world is wilting

i’m sick of desire

i don’t want to want anything 

i want to breathe in something soft

sh h

2/21/22

i’m not really sure what i was looking for from it

if there was something, stinging 

but it felt childish

and pure

i’ve done this before, of course

but maybe this is actually quite new

imagine.

not you, but me?

long kept and mostly quiet

90 minutes never felt so short

i am paranoid you know?

seems you are too

not much more to say about that then,

for all the same reasons.

i fantasized about some things

it’s become a bit confusing

—

i remember one time

pining a bit

convinced i was simply convinced

turns out i was right, found out years later

so i wonder, right?

had a friend once

some days it feels like i’ll never write again

that prickly sensation on the left side of my skull

keep wondering if i can break into another mind

it hasn’t been easy, i have to offer something up

every time

and i’ll do it gladly

even after self-reflection in the trick mirror i’ve created with my own ears and eyes

i am never asking for advice

and if you actually know what i need, 

it’s a way out of this tongue

through a pulsating body

maybe

2/16/21

i fell over on the terrace

and couldn’t tell if i’d slipped

or if i’d passed out

and the thought scared me,

the same way it did when emptiness found its way into my bones after seeing black at the doctor’s office

they just needed some blood

to figure out why i’d been experiencing stomach pain for months

so constant, the aches became dull over time

i figured, “this is maybe just how it feels to be alive now”

which brings me back to sunday night

it was valentine’s day

and i smoked myself into the other plane again for the first time in years

i was underwater, imagining - well, i’m not sure now

“i just need to wake up,” i told myself

after specifically doing everything in my power to slide back into the warmth of a dangerously tall high

i felt scared on the terrace, what if i fell over?

i knew it wasn’t possible, so i leaned into the railing 

i swear i closed my eyes for just a second

and then woke up to what felt like an infinite tumble

i was suddenly a toddler at laramee green, stumbling down the stairs with my dog

for an eternity 

and my eyes opened to wet snow, my body on its side

i couldn’t remember if i’d hit my head

and the high was blurring the reality of my bodily sensations

i’d gotten what i’d wanted

a brief touch base with the faceless solitude before the collapse

i can count on one hand the times that i’ve been there

standing on the neon light, that separates the waking hours from the endless night

the first time, watching stars burn like LEDs

the second time, seeing faces where they shouldn’t be

the third time, seeing my insides pixelate

inhaling air like wool, suffocated but warm

i miss it every time, until i’m back in its depths

this is maybe just how it feels to be alive now

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