Fortune Teller
I am mentally comparing
the pictures we took yesterday
to the pictures we will take
decades from now
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@rinan
Fortune Teller
I am mentally comparing
the pictures we took yesterday
to the pictures we will take
decades from now
Either you or lunch
My stomach is in knots
just thinking
about you being
in the same state.
I don’t even know when I’ll see you
but it’s the proximity
that makes me quake.
Our whole lives are written in sand right now,
we can’t go around counting chickens.
Still, as the plot thickens,
you can hear my pulse quicken.
But that could be some jalapenos I ate.
Heckin technology
Once
I get off my phone
I
Will make dinner
And paint.
Be productive,
Be creative,
Be all the things
I want.
Get my work done,
Get my feels out,
Live life fully
Irl.
I just have
To
Put my phone down
-oh, shit, you replied to my text! Omg. Okay cool, I'll just reply and...
“I grow love for myself and I am satisfied”
I get lost
in
writing love
letters
to other
people
than myself.
Creating fictions,
lovely pictures,
memories
of future selves.
But when I notice
that they’re made up
and again, I’ve lost my ground,
I begin
to feel lonely,
heartbroken, blue, and down.
Starshine, I
can call myself
sweet and uplifting things.
Starlight, I
can give myself
all the love that I could need.
Dearest, I
have all the power,
all the grace, and all the care
as happens next
when I am with you,
our love not needed, is freely shared.
A love unchained,
a love not desperate,
a love untethered,
love volunteered
is born in one
without intention
but to love
who grew it there.
Vol. 1
Philosopher Queen
How do you tell your mother
“I am my own god”
when that which helps you sleep at night
is keeping her awake?
How do you tell a lover
of your own omniscience
“I know your every line of sight,
each breath and where it went.”
Or do you sit upon your throne
with quiet steady power
philosopher queen
the great beholder
and wrestle the unknown
me: *can’t take a selfie* me: mercury is in retrograde
OL of My Love
Sleep, friend, and enter
the world of peaceful dreams.
Sleep, darling, and wander
about its glistening streets.
With coffee shops and cozy inns
fresh mist on the cobblestone
Red scarfs adorn each stranger's neck
every smile feels like home.
Books are piled everywhere.
Friendly voices call your name.
The night circus welcomes you
to take part in our magic games.
I wish I could grant you fairytales
I wish I could keep you safe.
I wish that you were home with me
and that they could take your place.
Persephone, when you return
flowers bloom, we all rejoice.
Persephone, for me, return
I long to hear your voice.
And when you're back, the sun will shine
and birds will sing their song
and I will cry my happy tears
And dance with you all night long.
But close your eyes and go to sleep
For now, you need your rest
Waltz around your dreamland
I wish you all the best.
Know that you are safe and sound
Not a thing can hurt you here.
I'll surround you with my warmth and love.
Sleep well, sleep sound, my dear.
Soul Dust
When you told me
"We are the stuff of stars"
you never said how much it'd hurt.
Burning through the atmosphere,
I land crashing each morning as I open my eyes,
Forgetting my celestial home
as I begin the day
A foreigner
A visitor.
I look and sound the same.
How can my heart beat so far away?
left in a hope chest
lost in an attic
far beyond the galactic sea
of space
of time.
And with my heart so far
I put my hand upon my chest,
protecting that which beats in its place,
A map to guide me home.
A map of stars lingers in my every breath
The names of one million galaxies clutter my mind
trip me as I step.
I bask in sunny rays
oh let me never see the night
for I long for her too deeply.
But like an addict, I'm back again
longing to gaze once more.
My sweet perfection
devastating beauty
breathtaking home.
True home.
And as dreams crash into me like waves
as mother spins the night to day
as wing on wind does soar away
so I too long for the night.
Oh
If I could find my heart
surely it would break.
My star map, lying there instead
flutters quietly in empty space
with no breeze to be felt
and no current to be heard.
What lovely torture I suffer!
eyes flitting
lip trembling
neck bent
I lift my soul into the heavens.
And she returns to me
each morning
burning through the atmosphere
leaving stardust in my eyes.
In Justice
Injustice Not my forte When white girl types on hand held device “Rise up!” “Take action!” And my actions are static Seated and yawning.
Injustice My voice carries and has nothing to say Her words drip with passion and fact But are blown away.
.
Two feet, three feet high
The children look you in the eye
and ask you what's going on.
But how do you respond?
Violence and injustice.
My back bends while her back breaks
we both bleed red, but not on the media's stage.
Crayola on a dirty page
when color was just
robin's egg blue and forest green.
Now I'm shouting out questions
"What does this mean??"
I'm not in danger,
that's undeniable fact
but how do I get my fellows to act?
Share, like, retweet, click click click
"You won't believe" "Guess what's trending!"
It's all clickbait, I'm sick.
I've got homework and heartwork
Lord knows it's all hardwork
emotionally constipated
conspiracy, it's all related.
The hate rises
it bubbles and boils
And I'm stuck toiling away.
People are dying and loved ones are crying and it feels like things will never be the same.
But how?
Let me shout!
Let me fight!
No more crying at night
for the girl ripped apart
by a system so "smart".
Assaulted, raped, punished.
Black, man, shot.
The innocence
the innocents
our innocence is dying.
And we don't notice until it's too late.
Fates hang on a click
a life for a like.
We're all philanthropists, rich on seconds of thought, given away with one left click.
Type type type
Fingers fly on letters furious
Knees by caffeine bounce up and down
but I am static.
I am static.
I do nothing.
.
Injustice.
.
Injustice.
How can I help?
NGC 7822 in Cepheus
Saturday Mornings
Cartoons on a Saturday morning.
I remember trying to make bread in the microwave.
Flour, milk, salt.
In a cereal bowl.
And it'd turn hard as a rock but I gnawed at it anyway and tossed it out before my parents came back from their errands.
My mom made me a nightgown from big scraps when I was little.
I remember it most by the time it only went down to my knees
but the soft yellow fabric always felt nice on my skin.
A lot of fabric made me anxious.
Clothes shopping was difficult for everyone involved and Mom and I both knew that if I had to try on clothes, there was a 90% chance of a tantrum on the way home.
But Saturday morning with my worn nightgown with its soft yellow fabric at the bottom and flowers at the top.
Saturday morning in a cool house with the fan going and me
lounging on the couch-bed with its old, smooth purple sheets.
Saturday morning with the nice-feeling things
with my homemade rock bread
with cartoons on the TV and the dogs outside
with Sister still asleep.
I always liked Saturday morning.
It has a happy ending
At night when I was little
before I fell asleep
sometimes I would pretend
to do surgery on myself.
I would draw lines
around the pooch of my stomach
and with my scalpel-finger
or my hand-scissors,
I would snip
cut
snip
along my little lines.
Then I would pull the skin back
and reach
in.
I would grab handfuls of my fat
and I would throw them away.
I would reach far under my skin
all around my torso
to my little armpit squishies
and the soft tufts of skin bunched up by pantie lines
and I would fling them away.
Off the bed, they went!
Across the room, they went!
And I would take my little
imaginary needle
with its imaginary thread
and I would stitch myself back up.
.
One night,
when I had snipped
and cut
and taken out all the fat,
I did something different.
I put it all back.
I put the fat back
and I molded it back into the shapes it had taken before.
I put it back and I sewed it shut
and I held my teddy bear tight.
I didn't want to throw myself away
anymore.
The morning
It is the night, the light
seeping through the cracks in the heavy curtain
keeping me awake when I'm alone
but never bothering me when my back
is on your chest.
It is the hair on your shins
that I feel with the backs of my calves
and when I stretch my back and my body
my tippy toes reach the tops of your feet.
It is the way you let me hold your head
muss your hair.
The way you think it looks better down
when you are so so terribly wrong.
It is you making the bed when you don't even live there
...technically.
It is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs
every time
so I can stand on the second-to-last step
and give you a kiss.
It is nap time and sexy time and cuddle time.
It is conversations you don't remember because you were really asleep
but that don't matter because all I did was tell you to stop snoring
each time.
It is crouching tiger, hidden dragon.
It is teamwork.
It is accidentally knocking my real tooth on your fake one.
It is forehead kisses and back scratches and exploring your face with my fingertips.
It is "Sorry I bite so hard." // No you're not. // "No, not really."
Even though I kind of am.
It is getting excited and kicking around or getting excited and attacking your face with kisses.
It is "Don't get too excited" whispered in your ear and // I already am. // whispered back.
It is how your hand finds mine and how mine finds yours.
It is you not understanding that I do not care when they are sweaty. I promise it does not bother me.
It is waking up and cuddling for another hour because fuck the day.
It is skin sticking together under the covers.
It is "Do you want to sleep in clothes tonight?" to let you know I'd rather feel you than cotton any night.
It is breakfast and always going back for cereal.
It is walking around the same pillar as to not bring bad luck.
It is making you hold still while I put in my contacts.
It is two minutes turning into two hours
though I promise I don't plan that
like 80% of the time.
It is the awkward closed kiss in the morning
because God forbid I witness a
tiny taste of your morning breath
and me
giving you water to help
even though it doesn't bother me.
It is me rushing you off to breakfast because morning makes me hungryyyy and because breakfast is for winners and I am indeed a winner.
It is the kiss in the elevator that makes me
a little dizzy on our way back up to my room.
It is the way I always watch you leave
and always get that last kiss.
It is the way you look in the cracks of the 11am sunlight.
It is the morning.
It is AM.
And it is you.