menticanic

a racing mind
can’t excelerate
without a course
to ride on.

the oil spots
leak down
through
your veins

pollute and
inflame
the muscles
with stress.

the cars
must be
put away
sometime.

clear the roads,
wash the
state of them.

sit in
the absence,
and breathe.

This bird is Trapped in my Camera Frozen in Take-off Forever

the plant
extended itself
just slightly
towards the sun

to motion,

“hey, I
need more.”

maybe we all
have a way
of doing that

whether
cognizant
of our own
movement
or not.


a centipede
flew down from
the wood awning
fearlessly

then skittered
across
floor boards

in pursuit
of destination
building crevice
[pretending
it knew
just
where it 
was going]

maybe
we all
do that
too.

A Beautiful Prison For Them

This is where
all of the
horrible things
live.

I lifted it
from my drawer
and exhaled,

“oh no,”

accidentally
letting my animal
out of it’s cage.

I forgot
where
My memories
had moved to.

I changed
their address

and lost their
coordinates.

it was not
a part of me
anymore

because
[because]

it had already
served
It’s purpose.

I was looking for
something else in
my dresser drawers

but, there
it Was
still
very much
real.

my ex boyfriend
bought me
this notebook
as a present

when we were
on our first
[and only]
trip together.

his love was
purposeful
and pure

in a list
of mine
that weren’t.

if i was
to believe
in fate,

he would be
a catalyst
incarnate.

some may argue,

“it’s a shame
to scribble
experiences of
sexual assault
and harassment
on such
beautiful pages.”

But isn’t it
always a shame,

however you
dress them,

and wherever
They lie?

Uniform

blanket beats fire

I was taught
love
was the
wrong details
of an oil painting.

 
the image:
a blanket
wrapped around
a stranger
in a desert night,
desperately trying
to keep warm
by a fire.

 
I was taught
the only way

for anyone
to love me

was for them
to light me
ablaze

stack of
kindling
Destroyed
by lover’s
presence.

 
I longed for that
feeling.

my heart
prickling
with shards of flame,

smoldering myself
to death
as I fell asleep.

 
i fantasised
about
the next
oxygen starved
donkey punch
to the chest.

 
i’ve been
romanticizing
wrong
painted details
so long,

 
When he
tried to whisper,
 

“darling,
you are much more
than broken branches,”

 i could not
hear him.

 
I was
deathly high,
flying,
dust in the wind,

reminiscing
my own
tortured ashes.

 
When all
you’ve known

is the burn
of a
direct flame,

you become
numb
to
warm kindness
of a fleece blanket.

 
You forget
you are subject,

meant to survive
the arid desert
with a loving touch.

 
But everyday
your nerves
come
one step closer
to healing themselves
in this love
you’ve found.

 
Let it
snuggle in
through your veins,

repair
altitude busted
ear drums,

to ensure
survival
another night.