reck·​less

Right now I want to be promiscuous - reckless? I want to trust, but also to revel, in its shallowness. I want to make bad decisions, because is there such a thing? To call, to rooftop. To sink my teeth into my own night, to hide by twilight and booze the feelings I carry by day and to feel no shame, but rather peace - the abominative, ployful reverence of a life pierced and strung by the needle of generations. Back arched in pain, I wince and ask for it again. I am my ancestors, whether or not they are mine. I am darkness and sunsets by day and by night.

To see an animal and deem its actions innocent is to remember that their consequences are personal. If my impacts are limited to those in my conversation, well-communicated and consensual, only the zookeeper can rightfully intervene. And the keeper I see is a forest, not a warden, their hands a caressing, lavender meringue, wisping around us as we wind ourselves together. No gauntlets claim access to the tracing of my fingers on a lover’s chest, the curiosity of my tongue as it slowly paints its way up, and within, their leg. Forests such as these are home to animals such as me, and in this very year I am alive still.

un·​in·​vit·​ed

In another life, we met briefly at a concert.

I watched you walk away then returned to my conversation.

In another, I saw you on a train.

Mischievous blue eyes playing tag until they found a playful connection.

In yet another, we were two eggs in a basket,

Our fragile shells Carefully placed side by side on a cloth.

And now I see we missed our window.

I saw the way you laughed.

I heard of your abandon,

the sidewalks you danced on.

We walk on the same sidewalks now,

but I'm the only one dancing.

Who taught you to receive stories silently,

to mistrust input, even your own?

Who made the hair on your arms stand up

so sharply that they now cut the hands that try to hold you?

Who let you keep your perfect smile

but told you not to use it?

Who pulled the laughter from your throat

and the bounce from your step?

And where did they store it?

Who made you supply all of your own affection

to the point where other's affirmation is redundant?

Who told you that getting old is bleak and unaffectionate,

that hope is naïve?

Who tied their love so tightly around you

that flowing braids now look like knotted ropes?

fluf•fing, 11

"What will you do with your time today, sweet one?"

They say chewing harder, tougher foods really helps define your jaw structure. so I guess the reason I get jawline compliments is because I eat a ton of cereal.

Is it a sustainable personality trait to perpetually threaten piercing my ears?

What if we could react to the typing text bubbles - like “hurry!” Or “whee, I can’t handle the anticipation"

update, I pierced my ears. evidently it was unsustainable.