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under my post of “the patience of ordinary things” by pat schneider i’m cryinggggg

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Dispassionate Ascetic Better than these fools

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The forest breathes The tides of seas The hand you squeeze

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Manic Transfixed No other wish

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Word's whorls,

Wandering wisps,

The cat of nine

Along my spine.

Self improvement?

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A growing within

Freshwater wets my bones,

And they creak less.

There's less stress

to never err or sin.

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What Wills would have

Worked their wiley tongues

Along my ear

Had I heard

Which ways would

Wetter feet have walked?

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But I walk now.

Range of motion,

Shoulders straight enough.

Isotonicity.

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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡

What Does It Feel Like?

To win and feel like you've won?

To live and feel like you're someone?

To come home after a long day in dress clothes.

What does it feel like?

To have someone breathe the same air

A couple exchanges of the lips

Those "Never Let Me Go"s wrapped around the hips.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡

I wanna be the one that brings you

Out of body

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And into me

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And out of pocket

You my paperweight

All of you pressing down on me

No wind strong enough

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ To blow me away

Apple sweet mouth

To shut me up

Forget the day

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (It forgets me)

Sip to the serenade

Lemonade lips delicious

Blood sugar rising high

Type 2 affection

Oxytocin on the decline

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡

Nothing prepares you for catastrophe

The crumbled cabin crunching bones

Crushed like a soda can accordion

I wasn't so fortunate

Flesh can only take so much stress

Before it stretches too far

And leaves me with less

Expect life lessons to feel good

Yet regrets runs rivulets

Down my solar plexus.

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Tell me again

How we danced the sun to set,

Jewels on every stretch of skin.

Our sacred rain.

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The vision slips,

The tides' ebbing hiss,

Allstar Seaworthy never got that kiss.

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Remind, remind, remind

Me how a hurricane hits,

And how within the eye-wall

Spring Is Coming With A Strawberry In The Mouth.

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fields of wild grass are soaked

with rain

to mark the start of may.

it seems it was too early

to assume

spring would nourish me;

instead of a fresh start,

i'm met with

an abundance of storms

and a heavy heart.

"staying indoors."

d.b.a

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I don't miss you

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ that was ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ yesterday

I've already drowned in that swamp

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ muddy ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ pants

Stains in my pockets, hands secreted

love chemicals ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ potent addictive

High turbulence in my cranium

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ a little crazy ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ feeling

Naysayer slapped sideways

with a vindictive ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ glove

Contents shifting gray to white

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ dark matter ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ matters not

Landing wheels protracted, life

jacket ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ above ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ on standby.

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By Muhammad Iqbal

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— F. Scott Fitzgerald, from The Love of the Last Tycoon (via lunamonchtuna)

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I caught this habit of looking under stones

I need to know what's under there.

And nothing lures me like a river's bend.

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Ada Limón, from “World Versus Girl”, Sharks in the Rivers

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Tug from the tied rope,

Tantalizing, taunting.

My wrists were already raw for this.

I'd gnaw off my hands for this.

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You yank.

The sting lasts

Longer than the pressure,

And I need crushing.

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“Portrait of Thoth”

Collage, March 2023.

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The trouble with being honest

Is that it's not always kind.

How is it right to infect you

With the parasites of my mind?

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A thought shared,

trait-based transmission

Of all the things that put

My immune system out of commission.

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Everyon may be sick already,

But not with the same diseases.

Right?

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Just because you're itching

Does that mean I can give you fleas?

Is that alright?

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Regardless of how heartless

Coughing may be

You've already changed the way

The way that I breathe

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Roadside wildflowers.

We can't stay here together,

But I'll kiss you anyway.

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Habiba Muhammadi, tr. by Ibrahim Muhawi, from The Poetry of Arab Women: A Contemporary Anthology; “Untitled Poem”

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There’s this ghost that haunts me

Every other month or so

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And every time she shows

I can’t stand not knowing

If I keep her up at night too

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I thought about asking her once

And still frequently do

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I have no right to though

Ghosts aren’t even real