zoemakeswords - Tumblr blog

[zoemakeswords]

“Around the Room”

the fly’s intensity is a high pitch squeal in an unwelcome escapade,

each flap of the wing a tenuous relationship with gravity--

I wonder what we would learn if we payed more attention.

[zoemakeswords]

“SFMOMA”

a walk around the museum where we fell in love.

the audacity of the paintings, how they’re still here and you’re not.

[zoemakeswords]

“Three Things”

6pm on a Thursday.

This is not where I’m supposed to be, according to my mother,

And exactly where I am supposed to be, according to my diary.

My internal compass. My heart magnet?

This way is North, you’re South, and I’m here, straddling West and Perfection.

One, two, three.

Three.

Three things you can’t force:

Love,

Sleep,

Poetry.

Three things I often try to force: Poetry,

Sleep,

Love.

Three things you told me: Yes,

Yes-No,

No.

2am on a Sunday. I take running into the night. Into the North. I used to love running, when I was younger and the mirror only hurt a little bit. This time, the shards are too much, from the South, again, and asphyxiation is my only salvation. Streetlights pass like warning signs, red flags flapping brazenly, and, as usual, I ignore them.

Three of my favorite foods: Mangos,

Tomatos,

(Your) attention.

Three things that always make me feel better:

Lists,

Stretching,

Washing my hands.

Three things i have now:

15 journals,

3 splits,

2 red, cracked hands.

Right now I’m straddling West and Mediocre, simultaneously Can’t Fit In and Aggressively Common. You’re Thomas Malthus, I’m the rising population. They said Yoga would calm me down, but inhaling feels like a waste of breath now.

Three of my favorite colors: Pink,

Mustard,

Bloodshot.

Three Grossest Words in the English Language:

Moist,

Succulent,

Mistake.

Three directions in which I go: South,

Clockwise,

South again, Fuck.

11pm on Any Night now. When I turn off the light now, the day seems like an unfinished letter, a poem that wasn’t quite final draft, a painting without shading. You submit it anyway because you're too tired to smooth the rough edges.

The reflective property of Geometry: X equals X.

Once again, shaking. Straddling North: the line between “Why the hell am I crying??” and “why the hell aren't you crying?”

Number one: I look in the mirror,

Number two: I go outside, and

Number three: I wait for the moon to set.