Sep 7, 2015
buzzcutsseason >>>> mygrandloves
i am purity ring trash
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buzzcutsseason >>>> mygrandloves
i am purity ring trash
it starts low and dull on a friday morning when the sun's not yet past the horizon. i think to myself that i will spend forever between the dusk and sunrise if it meant today didn't have to really start. i could suspend myself in the moment without ever meeting them. the sun rises, and i meet them, tucked under the tree branches between a breath and an "i'm sorry", and the coffee hasn't yet hit my veins but my blood is pounding anyway. i want them to be my sunrise. i don't tell them that, even after dancing half-clothed in their father's house, hair messed up and lips stretched wide. i don't tell them after playing hide and seek with my nephew and finding them wedged between a rock and my left lung. i don't tell them. i don't tell them until they do, lips pressed the bones over my heart. they tell me that coffee tastes like the seconds before the sun hits the horizon, that dancing feet sound like pouring rain in the summer, that playing hide and seek between my ribs isn't a game anymore. they tell me it's a home, family game night and fireworks, welcome mat wet with july showers. they say 'sunsets aren't the same without you' i say 'we are a sunrise'
c.j.
kalawhat >> buzzcutsseason
ourhoemtown>>kalawhat
kala....what......
gendersneer >>> ourhoemtown
sometimes i want to whisper baby into your skin like it's more than a promise but truth is it's not even a promise it's just me trying to bury some part of myself in you so when we walk away from each other you won't forget the knowledge you left with like the sound a car makes outside my bedroom window at 5am when you're sneaking out or the creaky fifth step going down to the sidewalk or the lady across the hall with her too-loud tv blaring through our walls or the gaping silence between one sound and the next and i want to yell because maybe i wasn't the only one to call you baby and maybe the bruise i saw on the inside of your arm, fading and yellow, wasn't one i put there with my own teeth i miss you and the noise you made when i asked you to stay the next morning and the morning after that when i begged you to think twice about what we were what are we solid glass and two sheets between us again and one word away from being the end of a story the punchline to a joke that started with a fist through the cracked drywall like starting a show in the middle of a season to find out all the secrets are already out in the open or the blanket crumpled around your legs or leaving the bathroom light on so you can see to tiptoe out before the sun comes up is it losing you if i pushed you away in the first place
c.j.
dear sue, i think it's come time to write again. you drink every night like the whiskey and wine will make the ache in your bones any less. i fill my days now so i'll never have time to pay attention to the three-day-old mcdonald's sitting on the kitchen counter or the buzzing next to my ear and i know you're calling but my hands still don't want to answer. you're getting closer to two full bottles a night and oh but do you understand what it means to know you're on your way to maybe-alcoholism? and i'm scared that the grass won't ever be any greener. while i'm tanning on the beach of a creek i knew when i was kid you're penning poetry about a dream that's a lifetime old and still your lifetime goal. me writing free verse words with no structure and doesn't that just resemble my life completely? a washed-up dream of something too complicated to finish. the ozarks are magical this time of year. sometimes i think faeries are in the trees telling me to stay here a while. i might listen. i'm worried you won't tell me when the nights start getting too long and i'm scared the alcohol won't cut it anymore. i miss you. dear sue, how do i fit this onto a postcard?
c.j.
feel like hold your breath its almost here can catch it in the air on the tips of your fingers skin burned hot in the sunset almost here feel like too much too far away antsy and three cigarettes since you pulled in the driveway two hours ago feel like holding stars over conversations fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel headed for dusk feel like hardwood floors and back to the door cant hold it anymore releasing breath feel like today is just one more heart (too) set on something () different
c.j.