Excerpt From 'For You I Am A Child'
Excerpt from 'For you I am a child'
I couldn’t see the letters my hand formed, black against blue on black, but I knew they were there. After this blind exercise was completed, I returned the pen and wrapped my cold feet back into the blanket. Now, it was easy to fall asleep, and if I dreamed that night, I do not remember.
If a poem can be anything, I could’ve written anything. How to make avocados ripe, directions to a church of law, a vow, an elegy, how to rig a sailboat, fold a fortune teller, French inhale, sin, make good oatmeal, kiss without teeth, escape self-delusion, write a novel, give a blowjob, be less, be more, leave everything behind, get blood stains out of white sheets, hold eye contact, not get lost in New York City, find the nearest body of water, win at solitaire, be alone, write in dip pen, build a portal, be with others, float, harmonize, unlearn shame, learn guilt, . . .
More Posts from Frightbunny and Others
unknown // ladybird (2017) // white oleander by janet fitch // elektra by sophocles // everything everywhere all at once (2022) // sharp objects by gillian flynn // mamma told me by mother mother
Dude last night I had this dream we were fucking. I saw the back of your neck all bare and it was like I fell forward lips first onto it. Thin gold chain, spring clasp, I ripped it off with my teeth. I heard you choke for a second until it broke but you knew I wouldn't hurt you.
And in the dream we are in your bed, in your old room, the one you shared with that emo boy-girl who didn't want you having anyone over ever, in that so silent space of broken eye contact and listening, listening. A space can't last if you know you have to leave it right, so here I am writing about some pathetic dream I had about some thing I said I would forget. Maybe some other night I would write about softness or upturned lips but no this is all water now
Sophisticated
a song I wrote as the new year came
I am looking ahead again It's the lemon seeds in my water Hair stuck in my collar I'm dreading the end again It's the paint on my fingernails The passing of time Now the ceiling's getting lower And the cards are all crying The same lines "You're the only problem It's why you'll never be great again" Sophisticated, unmedicated Every time I breathe it hurts Not complicated, I'm just retaining All this dirty water Each second as a blessing Counting down the days until it fails me twice Then I'll be frustrated Laying in my bed until it happens thrice Now everyone's texting me Look at your phone, it's '25 But I'm still stuck in last year Wanting all the things that've passed me by Ribs being counted, stars unprofounded Who did you say you were? Sophisticated, lately been craving Some type of modular
It's been thirty minutes I can still feel the magic of purple skirts Rituals and paper It's getting later But I'm the same daughter
When I was little, probably 7 or 8, I spent a summer working in the library at our church helping out the elderly woman who ran it. It was no bigger than a large broom closet but we had a notable amount of religious books for all age ranges as well as an extensive collection of cassette recordings of every Sunday sermon going back a decade or two. I'd sit in there all day helping her catalog the index cards and keep record of who had borrowed what. We wrote on index cards all day long and listened to the recorded sermons, which included the choir's worship service at the beginning. "Nearer, My God, To Thee" was always my favorite hymn by a long shot. I wanted to emulate listening to it on the tiny tape player in that little library for Perverts. It's a fond memory of mine, just wanted to share :)
Six days sober
Recently learned about a type of pattern synesthesia where people can pick out 4-leaf clovers easily
I wonder if they are more lucky
The sky is a foggy dark gray like I’ve hotboxed the whole planet and not just my 13th floor apartment, smoke curls out the window and it always has somewhere to go.
There is no room for hesitation or stupidity. It just is, and I am carried by want, impulse, the direction of the wind.
Like she said, I want to feel the heat of all the bodies. I want to be alive but aliveness disgusts me, I want to be predictable and human-like. Every moment I am thinking about how it will end and this gets me nowhere, so no wonder I feel stuck.
Trapped in between two tall buildings, endless city blocks, always paralyzed by fear, asking stupid questions like it’s part of my nature— which it is— existing under a false lightless sky; I’m finding wonder in things that I can’t see, taking the easy way out.
I miss weheartit
super low quality meme. valerie come back we need you more than ever </3
