paperback.

when his hands fumbled, i asked him if it was his first time. he said it was. somewhere in there i became the expert. after i watched each of the stripes on my flannel sheets peel off and squiggle along the hardwood floor, i thought about her decision. i was never one for waiting. i was never one for waiting for someone else to decide. somewhere in there i became the passive. i never would have thought. i watched the leaves on my curtains flutter in the wind, tear themselves from textiles and fall into piles against the woodwork. i type out these assignments with my mind on automatic, i try to eat a few meals everyday at the appropriate intervals but it's so hard to stomach anything these days. i watch the yellow light bulbs unscrew themselves and shatter in lemony glass shards, sending sparks through the clothes on my floor. somewhere in there i became that girl, laughing and twisting and shrugging it off. i never would have thought.

northshore.

maybe my heart beat's connected to this thing, no i'm not ready for a downtown trash collection. somewhere inbetween my mouth talk talking, flexible jawlines and dry throats, i stopped telling the truth over there. i'm not used to that, compulsive lies, i used to be impressive, he used to be impressed by me but that doesn't work anymore, i need to be more, i know you feel it too. sliding into a desk where my palms can sweat on the tabletop, leave liquid handprints before i need to leave, swift down a hallway, there's no air down there, no air down there in the basement. i've created a monster (eyes focused like a microscope) cause now i've got these shadows following me, i'm all too accountable. you know me, fifty shades of grey and i'll pull you under, every facet of my life, glass jars on every surface. did you really think it wouldn't be that bad? turn me into some kind of angry nomad again, you're all too accountable. i don't want to think like this, in lies and exaggerations, but he said, he said think of the moment when you are most serene. i laughed because i don't think i've ever been serene. jittery on three cups of chai tea, sweat on the backs of my thighs, spontaneous tears that freeze on face, no, i've never been serene. and i'll probably keep on lying, i'm sorry, i'll probably keep on lying until i feel like i impress him again.

mason jars of sea salt.

i did it. i pushed through walls that were bricked up and violent. waded through thick, dark mud that clung to my legs and threatened to pull me down, pull me down through a curtain of woven gold wool strung between dark green trees in a wood that is blackened and smoky, into a place of permanent night and where tea cups fall as precipitation, smashing their tiny china bones in crusty bird's nests and the hollow places in trees and scattered jagged and delicate through the dewy grass.
why can't you, why can't you stop walk walk walking through that dirty sticky mud, leave a trail of selfish though our lives and loves of lapis lazuli, glass and pure white sand, sickening pink champagne spilling over the walls and trickling in puddles and pools on the ground. you can't do that, you can't do that to people you like, you need to get a grip, grope, grasp on consequences, push all of those heavy laden cartons and boxes tied with string into an old baby carriage, pull on some skeleton keys for clothing, and push push that baby carriage down a hill. let it go, let go and licked honeyed waxy candies from your pockets and stop stop sending envelopes of serpentine sentiments to your friends. ride your bicycle and tie your hair into knots and take a step back, take a kilometre back, take a couple of steps back before you've discovered that hole in the wool of your grey pockets.