dreams

i’ve got dreams that ache like honeycomb

i’ve got a heart that’s in too deep

standing in the ocean, water up to my knees

trying to find my direction

trying to get out of this, god, please

i’ve got dreams like pressed flowers

staining book pages, crumbling in my palms

i’ve got dreams that feel more like curses

like i’m tantalus, sitting in my fucking pond

i’ll stare up at the fruit trees, i’ll lust after the water

and the second i reach, it’s gone

i’ll self-sabotage, bury my head in the sand

just trying to do what’s right

i guess i’ll just make a future out of sailcloth, and forget

to sew over my pins

i guess i’ll smile, and nod, forever be in flux

i’ll change faces like the moon, and i’ll hide behind the sun

‘cause i’ve got dreams like birthday balloons

sagging plastic on the floor

i’ve got dreams that ache like open sores

stubborn scars across my palm

a memory of idealism, long since fucking gone

i’ve got dreams that taste like lavender

and go down like wildfire smoke

dreams like steamed milk lullabies

curdled to the touch

i’ve got dreams so bright they’re blinding

i’m standing barefoot in the rain

and looking up at the sky, hanging to raindrops by fraying lines of thread

it’s not much

but i don’t let go just yet

self care

take care of yourself, honey. scream into a mirror. kick down all the doors. throw your pillow at the wall and cry for people that have never fucking been yours.  think about death and fate, and try to find a story in it all. boil it to pulp, and pick out the seeds. take a break and go insane, your mind spinning like static electricity. work yourself to death, and imagine you’re just like sleeping beauty. start a journal, take up sewing! almost lose it on the phone, about things that happened years ago. clench your jaw and bite your lips. bottle up until your back is sore. it’s all right, you’ll figure it out eventually. read through old journals, and try to meet the pictures in the eye. snap and scream it all out, but only in your mind. with every word beg for compromise, and closure, homesickness swirling in your gut. maybe i’ll never muster up the courage to leave this town. i don’t know how much more of this i can take. i’ll start drinking decaf! write a poem about rage! you’ll be over it soon, don’t worry. this is just another phase.


I’ve been having one of those weeks where no one thing in my life has actually been going especially terrible–actually, a lot of things are going really well. But there are enough things that are about a 5 or 6 on the frustration scale, and I am terrible enough at actually expressing my anger in any productive way that might lead to solving the issue that it has just been… kind of building up until I am just ready to snap. There’s nothing I can do about any of these situations that are driving me crazy; I’m in the position of having no other real choice than to deal with some BS, and suck it up for the next little while until these mostly fleeting issues pass, because getting angry is just going to make it harder to deal with, and in the logical part of my brain, I know this. I just have to wait it out. (Also, I’m terrified of conflict, which doesn’t help–but really, all of my problems right now are very much out of my control.) So yeah. Sigh.

more

i’ve climbed the mountain and i have done exactly what you asked

i have sung your cloying song and danced your pretty dance

taken a painkiller to boot, ‘cause my throat is sore and my eyes start to water

at the sight of pigtails and braids and a warm, soft bed

i’ve climbed the mountain and come down, gasping and sore

tired, aching, still wanting for more

‘cause there’s no value in the achievement

in the ache and the pain, the bloody teeth

the pages rolling off my cheeks

i don’t know how to fit my feelings

into boxes, i don’t know how to make them nice

and good, and neat

to follow the hand-outs and the worksheets

and make it stick this time

i don’t know how to curtsy and remember the cues

i’m trying, though, i swear to you

and is it failure i’m facing

or is this just real life? 

‘cause aching dreams seemed prettier

in the early morning light

when whatever it takes sounded like a wedding vow

and desperate fixation felt like intimacy

i’ve lied in bed all morning and stared up at the ceiling

muscles screaming

for motion and feeling, wind in my lungs and something to chase

for shoulders at rest

my thoughts running slow

it’s just a fantasy

some romanticized bullshit, a glamour

i’ll never be able to let go

but god, it’s a good one

watching me at night

when time is running slow

gritted teeth

i can’t stand the sight of waterfalls, these days

and even that one photo of purple-blue galaxies feels overdone

and cliché, i’ve heard this song play just one

too many times in outlet malls and grocery stores

and now all the ukulele strumming makes me feel is tired

and i can’t stand it, everyone around me so giddy and excited

for what comes next, and all i can do is sit there in my room

wishing for that time machine to finally come through

i’m not good at change, i never have been

and in my head i’m thirty and i’m happy and it’s all

some rose-tinted vision, really just a cheap vintage filter

on my phone

it’s just another lie you told me

another promise that you will never keep

i don’t want to change the world anymore

i just want to go to sleep

i want to handle you with care

like you’re made of porcelain

i want to play the strings just right

’cause i don’t believe it anymore

when people say they’re sorry

or they just want to help me

‘cause i’ve heard that one before

heard it spoken ‘til the words were weary and worn in

sickly-sweet and rotten on my tongue

but god, i want to

i want to trust every person i meet

i want to hold your hand and sing for weeks

i want to make apple pies and stand outside in the sun

i want to trace back the fissure right down the break

i want to step back onto a stage, just like i used to

and sing through gritted teeth, a hopeful kind of ache


I am SO proud of this piece–I think I want to submit it somewhere 🙂

2022/02/05

i don’t really like this song, but it’s stuck in my brain 

so i’ll listen out of pity

i’ll wash the dishes and i’ll bitch about work, and school

math assignments, my ever-aching back

i’ll sing to the refrain 

i’ll wind the player back

‘cause i miss things i’ve never even had

stockings and pinafores

polaroid photos and low rise jeans

and dial-up internet

i miss a utopia i have never seen with the lights on

i see her in my dreams, i dance around her skirt on the ballroom floor

don’t know how i ended up here

except on the wings of random luck

i miss a wasted youth i don’t know

but she looks pretty perfect in the magazines

with her 16th birthday convertibles

getting drunk at parties, adulthood on free trial

doing bad things

with no consequence

i miss people i haven’t seen since the second grade

i hope they’re doing good

i hope they don’t fall asleep on a spiderweb

swaying in the wind

old phobias creeping over their skin

i hope the sun shines through their windows

i hope they read books and dog-ear the pages

i hope they drink lemonade and they give gifts to strangers

like it doesn’t cost them anything

i don’t like this song

but i can’t stop listening, need to know

how it ends, need to build it a casket and lay it down to rest

need to sing all the falsetto highs

‘til my throat is sore

need to go through the five stages of grief

for something that can’t die

because it’s not even a person

and i’ll be out of here before you know it

i’ll look back on old memories with a pit in my stomach

feel my heart wrench

and i will miss the lies you told me

flannel-soft and kind, right to the finish


Not entirely sure what this poem means, but I like how it turned out.