mark3r

[mark3r]

Jesus Christ Hallelujah, 13/09/23

i could lift a hand in front of my face and feel the wind push through the gaps between my fingers.

i could lay a hand on your chest and feel your lungs as you breathe.

i could embrace you and feel warmth and blood and movement proving you are alive.

then i could eat. and eat like I was a greedy dog, like a starving mutt, like a terrible person.

but now i will pray. my bare knees stuck against the floor, fingers intertwined. no gaps. air still. and i will pray.

Jesus Christ Hallelujah.

[mark3r]

floating.

the air is bitter cold. the sun doesn't shine. i stay still as you talk to me in a distant voice.

loud but quiet. friendly but not.

and, floating here, i see the clouds break, revealing a dead, hollow orb.

you keep on.

the house we live in is not far. it's a barren home. with a concrete bed and a plastic table. and a plasma tv, volume turned to max.

the grass has turned blue again, like usual. you never seem to notice or explain. you just keep on talking.

but, finally, you offer me a spoonful of pomegranate cake. i don't protest. it tastes like cardboard.

where did you get those pomegranates, i ask.

i bought them at the store, of course, you say.

what store, i ask.

i dont quite remember, you say.

i quiet down then, you go back to rambling. and i float again. but now i think.

how can you speak so much without a heart or a brain? how can you have so much to say if you stay in one place all of the time?

the clouds darken further. drip drop- rain.

you hurry me inside. dont want to get my petticoat wet. the cake is left behind, and i watch as it disolves into a pink pile of gunk.

you should take me to that shop, i say.

what shop, you ask.

the shop that sells pomegranates, i say.

oh, you say.

i sit by the window. the stairs creak so i know you've gone away. i long for pomegranates that don't taste like cardboard.

[mark3r]

i grab at the silk on her chest.

rabid hands search all over.

a nail slices through skin.

blood. ignore it.

because, there we were.

in her pretty pink princess room,

pushed against her heart shaped vanity.

like animals. hungry and desperate.

(pathetic and gross, she'd say.)

but, in this moment, in this one moment.

I'm not me, I'm not that stupid friendless freak.

and she's not a blonde "popular girl" cliche.

we're nothing, just shapes blending together.

harder and harder and harder andharderandharderandharder

and faster andfaster and faster andfasterand fast er an d f a ster and

done. over. we're us again.

[mark3r]

a song made by joanna

i cried 8 minutes on the bus

you just stared at me

with your hot pink- cherry blush

i wish i could live in coney island

like the blonde girl wrote about

sit on the bench and wait for you

or ride the merry go round

a brunette sang in a song once

about a painful love she had

when i listen i think of you

and your cold, pretty hands

a japanese women penned lyrics

about a flower that saw everything

but you dont seem to understand

anything these songs mean to me.

and

I'll get you a ring

I'll get you a ring

I'll get you a ring

I'll get you a ring

[mark3r]

man, he's beautiful.

he's leaning back on the bed, I'm standing, watching him. my eyes are almost tearing up, my mouth watering. watching, looking. his skin, soft, not a single blemish. fragile, maybe. I'm afraid to touch, but i cant stop myself.

now he's undressing, his finger hurried popping open the buttons on his shirt. oh god. we don't break eye contact. i stand still as he pulls his grey trousers off, now he's only in his boxers. i stare.

silence. heavy breathing. he reaches forward and unbuckles my belt. oh god, oh god, oh god. is this real?

im soaking wet, my knees shake. fuck, i need him so bad. he lies back on the bed, i get on top. fuck, the look in his eyes, i can't take it. i take him into a kiss. god.

he looks so perfect, so pretty there lying on his back. and his mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed as he slowly enters me, i almost come undone right there.

but we go at it for a while, every sound coming from his mouth like music to my ears. and when its over, i roll over next to him and he falls asleep. i kiss his forehead and sit there, and i watch him again. my heart aches.

how can someone be so beautiful?

[mark3r]

it was that stupid arcade.

midnight, they close the bowling part so we were stuck playing driving games. i love the seats, my fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. youre hungry. pizza? pizza. down the lane, your high heels clattering on the ground. your sequinned dress and messy hair and drunk smile really brings the whole look together.

are you my girlfriend? im asking myself.

youre too good to be true.

and we settle for the chippers. salt and vinegar for both of us. and a burger for me. youll just have chips. you're too skinny, you know that? it won't kill you. down another lane. we travel this town by back alleys, i guess.

click clack click clack.

the arcade is closed. everywhere is closed. but the off license is still there, bright as a comet in the sky. click clack your way over there. i don't want anything, I've already had too much. now I'm standing there, eating those chips. no ones around. silence.

are you my girlfriend? I'm still asking myself.

but you come back out with two bottles of captain morgan and youre saying he's gonna come pick us you and-

i forgot about him.

are you my girlfriend? no.

[mark3r]

[mark3r]

i went through my old posts on this blog. wow. some of my old poetry stuffs are pretty good. im not like a literature person or whatever. but i like the style of writing where its, like, a feeling. like some type of memory that everyone remembers. a written type of liminal space, as simply as i can put it. i love that.

[mark3r]

she says my name

soft

like an angel.

her touch,

burning me from the inside out.

i've never been this gentle

i've always been fast and direct

but her words

are ciphers,

mysteries for me to solve.

walk your fingers up my spine,

hush.

i don't even have to speak.

this holy woman,

dark,

and light.

i'm her darling boy.

[mark3r]

fourth of july tears streaming down my face

were the wails enough to make your heart race?

enough to make your head ache?

fourth of july tears, driving down the country

will you still be there to comfort me?

when my tears run dry...

ive never been good at anything.

im up at 3 in the morning.

with my

fourth of july tears, begging you to stay

were the wails enough to make your heart race?

enough to make you love me?

[mark3r]

i miss her.

me before i found a name i wanted,

before i found the person i wanted to be.

before i cut my hair.

the me who wore skirts and crop tops.

the me who everyone still wishes i was,

the simpler me.

normal me.

[mark3r]

im scared of dying. it could happen at any moment. any day i could just go about my normal routine and end up dead, maybe hit by a car or whatever. and then there would be nothing. nothing at all. black.

and thats why i want to believe in god. i went to a church today and i saw the pictures on the walls. a statue of jesus of the cross. he died for me. he died for me. i felt weird, i wanted to pray. i wanted to confess my sins. but i didnt. i lit a candle and gave a donation and left. and i havent been able to shake this stupid feeling for hours.

i want to believe in god. i want to go to church and pray. i hope and wish and beg that God exists and heaven is real and jesus really died for me. i dont know. i used to be so firmly against god. now i think i believe in every god. i want faith.

i don't want to die.

[mark3r]

hanging out with her, in her room, doing nothing fun, just on our phones. not speaking. not interacting. not even texting. i loved that, the only interactions being my skin brushing against her skin by accident. her scent. then she'd say something, i'd respond. and laughter. she wasn't even "pretty" back then. she was always pretty to me. now guys like her, because she died her hair and posts on tiktok and instagram and she's cool and im nobody.

fuck.

[mark3r]

guys i came out to my ma and she supports me!!!! im so happy i kinda knew she would but still my heart is like boooommm

[mark3r]

i would very much like to be a boy

[mark3r]

ok im gonna sleep