Hurt Me.

[whatispurpose]

On Love and Beginning to Care

You just want to show them how much you care.

Without being weird or creepy. Just the right amount of weird to show them how you process...

but not scare them.

And second guessing what exactly your feelings are. You want to rush to that moment when you're both completely sure - because there are words for sureness. 

Are there words for the interim? For wanting to be around someone all the time, for expressing how much fuller you feel around someone, to wanting to say "i love you" (because you do) but knowing not to, not knowing what that would actually mean or who they actually are? To thinking about them all the time but not having the standard components and check marks and required knowledge of them to validate the feeling of comfort that resembles knowing? 

To thinking about all there is to say at 87 miles per hour, but saying nothing because every word means so much more than you could possibly think about or intend. To feeling like there's something you'd like to say, to feeling like there's something you should say to express how this feels. To communicate concretely.

To wanting things to be perfect, but having only imperfect examples to draw from. 

Actions are one thing, but how do you form words that say "i'm starting to care about you" without fear or need or the "now what?" of expectation?

[whatispurpose]

I'm All Yours

what's the boundary between ownership and just genuinely wanting to be a part of someone's life?

and to want to share your life with them.

[whatispurpose]

love letter to a stranger [revised]

i cried last night because you wouldn't love me

and felt selfish, fell asleep.

at 5 o'clock i awoke to the setting, gloomy, east coast sun

and i resolved

to forego daydreams

to go forth without desire

(how very buddhist of me)

.-

you did not return my eye-contact through the steamy bathroom window.

you did not notice me at the abandoned bus stop through the haze of menthol smoke.

you didn't smile when i tripped, eyeing the couple on the street.

you weren't somewhere watching as i did laundry at 3am whistling love songs as sirens for someone somewhere to hear

i didn't meet you on the internet.

.-

and i'm so young, i've seen it younger.

and more eager.

and more dense.

maybe my love is too intense.

-

on a saturday night, 

i need someone to do drugs with

someone to thrill me.

call me their "little slut"

and hit me

you looked like you could be the type?

-

you say:

"you can run my concubine, but it will not bring contrition."

i say:

i'm done. i quit. 

on no condition

can i ever

run to you.

that's right gorgeous.

we are through

and no you can't come get your sweater.

it makes me wetter

just to think, that you'd lye sleepless

in the cold.

.-

i will not waste my time

i'm getting old

and i still have a couple dreams

that you could not fulfill. 

my ambition, it's own bitter pill,

will keep me warm at night.

i know it's liberated, trite,

but you weren't there to calm my fears.

and we made eye contact

for years and years

and though your gaze is sweet and tempting

this time, i cannot answer back.

.-

i love you.

that's why we're breaking up.

you're not particular enough.

you're every woman. every man.

and though i love that,

i cannot stand stand, to make a name for you once more.

.-

because i've been the little whore 

to your ethereal transparence

but anonymity, please let me be.

i cannot live this way.

i can't make eye contact three times a day

and pretend that i've progressed.

we both know that's not success.

and now you'll have to lose my number.

and i'll cuddle my ambition when it starts to rain and thunder

and if you take a name to tempt me,

i won't stop you, but i can't go,

.-

unless i look at you, and know

that you're deeper than a glance.

and on that day you'll have your only chance.

and if you don't convince me,

i will have to look away.

[whatispurpose]

Pisces

there's a peaceful energy in just being around her.

this separates the girls from the women.

[whatispurpose]

12/2

If you stay out late enough, even if the sun's not up, eventually the deli guy is wishing you goodmorning. 

[whatispurpose]

insanity (again and again and again)

if we're going to be smokers, we still need to get an ashtray. if we're really doing this. if we really don't care.

-

dark pink clouds two hours past midnight, blowing smoke into rings. as close as the kitchen window. as far away as consciousness.

-

i've finished, i've finished them. i'm making myself sick. i take my pleasures slowly, take too much, and i get sick.

-

faintly reaching out to solitude

-

sick of you. sick of being sick with you. sick of being sick for you and making us more sick.

[whatispurpose]

There is literally absolutely no way to make someone love you.

[whatispurpose]

OkCupid Love Poem

I wrote this poem with a girl named Milena via OkCupid messages almost a year ago. It was pretty much our only communication, we stopped talking soon after and we never met in person. 

Happy Valentine's Day

-

"Illuminated and eternal 

furious and tranquil 

we'll sleep on a bed of autumn leaves 

flying into the moonbeams of May 

I'll dream of new ways of kissing 

and you of beaches and arms 

and that silence 

that same impossible silence 

muting our lives with a je ne sais quoi 

that will surprise us with its perfection 

and when I awake I'll think you a shooting star 

and wish...."

-

...that time would never come 

to fling you from my sight. 

winter remembers 

being spring 

her lustful fever 

haunts its bones 

and even in the darkest storm 

mirage is memory's light. 

and when the season comes 

my love, 

i'll hold you close 

and melt you warm 

and memories that you've sustained 

no longer will suffice. 

-

"And i, miles away 

find myself tinged by gin 

smiling into a void. 

noises of strangers keep me tense 

and i am bound to peace only by the sound 

of rose and lavender flavored petals shining through 

glass 

and ice 

wavy hints of blue. 

a pretty french cocktail glass. 

 -

We then have named ourselves, 

we found ourselves in the drifting of the particles which were once 

merely dust. 

We mad prisms in the light and danced... 

All while they, being so grounded couldn't see 

the grandeur 

the flux in ebb and flow, the transitioning which is life 

the humanity which we brazenly call home. 

 -

Our crowns have made us beautiful, 

pierced and purified by the thorns which were rays 

of light 

even through the tears of hated blood 

we bled along the way...."

-

with time, we marched through city streets

we prayed

to pry ourselves from god

we danced

in oil, fallen rain, 

lights beckoning from cars.

we fell, were fallen

made a wish

to idols, in the place of stars

which blinded, overwhelmed by man

had fallen into dark.

 -

soaking in the 

puddled ground

through calvary wounds, let poison flow.

they led us to: 'the only way'

we furies

took our charge.

index, pinkie, interlaced

our damaged lips

our moonburnt tongues 

lapped mantras, coded

from below,

burning until,

insides gone and

warm hugged close for

comfort

head in bosom

breast in hand in

hand in stomach, pawed

scratched, clenched

and clenched, and clenched...

 -

aware of our mortality

in two-way streets

we were still one.

questioning on mortal tongues

what are we searching for?

[whatispurpose]

Girl

I am going to get an animal

and I am going to fuck it, with a strap-on

on my haunches

over and over

over and over

an "it", a mass of throat

warm thing to take my elbow's jabbing

rocking, 

loves me like a cocky child

and most of all it will be mine.

[whatispurpose]

February 1st

warm milk

cigarette

and church steeple

-

i am mommy's little boy

[whatispurpose]

Affection Starved [Draft 1]

Here's a chance. I know we just met, date me. It’s a really dumb idea but –

I woke up this morning overslept for everything, masturbating, winter lit and missing out on sun,

affection starved.

With you honestly I think I could get more done.  

[whatispurpose]

Being Tamed 6: Love and Self Love

I’ve been thinking about weather or not to write this one for a while. Maybe I’m ready.

I always write these after cigarettes.

This morning I woke up three times. 2am, 9:50 or 10:20, and 1:15 but mostly 2p.

I didn’t have to be anywhere and I couldn’t stop falling asleep. I needed to get up and work and be productive, but when I finally did get out of bed I rationalized that waking up so late was ok because sometimes comfort needs to come before being productive. Sometimes it’s okay to take time. 

I haven’t had sex in three weeks and I’ve been thinking about the politics surrounding that a lot. How much I want it vs how unfulfilling the type of sex I’m used to has started to feel. It’s getting cold. My emotions are becoming more linked to my physical expressions and I’m craving more; from others, and from myself.

Lately I find myself going to a place that’s a lot more desperate. Less like what I’m used to and more like making necessary and exhausting love to myself, giving myself everything and still needing more. I’ve gotten lost. Sometimes there’re tears. Every reach starts with a claw at desire or satisfaction and ends digging for a fulfillment than I can’t necessarily give myself. I usually get there by idealizing those who haven’t been relevant in my life for a while. Experiences that weren’t exactly “positive” for me when they happened but in the recovery I feel a closeness between my attraction to self, an emotional affection and intense self love, and a tangible emotional desire that i’ve been trying my best to ignore. I don’t even know if my conscious, practical side even really wants it. Why would I want to fulfill desperation. I don’t want that kind of dependence. I’m just getting completely comfortable with myself, why would I want to invite someone else with unsure ideas, aspirations and futures of their own come in and unbalance whatever I’m trying for?

Lately it's become a sure way to fall asleep, but on weekends when it's  an accessory to waking up I am more aware of my un- and subconscious. I’ve been pretty cruel to them lately and they’ve gotten back at me. They’re full of desires that I enjoy being overcome by and I don’t particularly want to erase…I just need to maintain full control over them. Over it. Over all parts of myself.

And when I finally get what I came for and pull my shaky legs out of bed, I can pour myself back into the complete consciousness of physical reality. I can give in to the monotony and deal with being over-worked because I’ve acknowledged it’s connection to everything else that’s there. The parts of myself that I’ve strong-armed. Put on the back burner in order to seek a fulfillment that’s both linked to the familiar and the foreign. Something more permanent, a solid communicable confirmation of what my unconscious has always known. 

journal entries of a queer polyamorous human being attempting to tame themselves. je suis ma premier, mais le monde est ma seul. 

[whatispurpose]

where the wild things are.

in the urban countryside:

there are fields, old churches, and stripped houses

the deer are coming back, they say

or wolverines

or other indigenous things…we’re giving back to earth!

in parts of town,

more like bricks have grown from pastures

structure cohabitates with turning soils

people watching documentaries

of future urban farms?

/

they say something smells like burning hair,

that’s really burning flesh.

but is it really that dangerous?

as i’ve been told in other lands?

where i’m from

they say, “unfortunate”

from mouths of bitches from manhattan

or long island

even massachusetts…and there’s nothing there.

i say come see for yourself!

live with me and wild things that i grew up with

who could fulfill all their wishes

because they simply had the space.

i mean…have you even been there?

/

of course.

nobody’s been there.

so maybe we’re the only ones to which

it all sounds so poetic

those whose ears were tuned

in places so exotic, they’re naïve

to all the people on the outside

who never knew for what to listen

to some, i guess this is all babble.

and it’s sad we can do anything

but they cannot believe.

[whatispurpose]

and to the pole that marks the bus stop

the guy across the street outside my window just picked his nose then stepped out of the street, over the curb and to the pole that marks the bus stop. he wiped the boogers on his jeans and then scratched his ass in one motion while i stared at him in my underwear through sheer curtains & thought "that's talent".

[whatispurpose]

i really hate girls. [revised].

i bet you told them all i was a psychopath.

who can't handle her alcohol

and sings when she drinks.

a sex addict

who only wanted in your pants.

an emotional liar.

an emotional mess.

an emotional samsonite

nothing but baggage

and crazy, depressed ambition

who was obsessed with you.

is obsessed with you.

-

when you stop answering my texts,

i’ll scour the internet for months

for hints

i might even stalk your spotify

i'll get my fix 

on clit flicks 

courtesy of your facebook pics

and swear by the ice

of your loins

it was love.

[whatispurpose]

nostalgia

sophomore year of high school 

i dated a boy

who broke up with me by letter

that got lost in the mail

-

later that summer

when i couldn't find him

i kissed other people

i thought it was cheating

it actually wasn't

because of the letter

but i still enjoyed it

because of the mail

-

last night or something

i looked at his facebook

he's dropped out of college

still got that depression

i admired so well?

a bit of a gut now

his dad's creepy smile

if he still remembers

the times that we dry humped

in rooms between classes

then i wish him well.

[whatispurpose]

sad isn't the word.

you're the kind of girl who makes me

wish i had a boyfriend.

because i love dark things

and hold them close

until they make me cry.

& then somehow it's winter

& i'm laughing hysterically at how

terrible i feel

and how i still

have no idea what it is

you want

from me.