I started smoking again just to prove how over you I am.
I found 5 pointed stars in my bed,
Tore my sheets and poked microscopic holes in my mattress.
A dip in the terrain for every night you’ve spent.
I sleep over 3D maps and contemplate earthquakes now.
The mountains you created make knots in my back,
My lows don’t feel so low anymore;
While the highs,
Hurt a hell of a lot more
Than the lows
I went to an estate sale.
A woman was selling a baby blue guitar.
“It’s yours — I’m moving to Aruba.”
And off I went with baby blue in hand.
As Blue as an Aries,
was the name of the band.
There was a boy in navy blue swim trunks playing in a South Jersey blue hole.
I blushed at the site of him — pink.
I put down my guitar and started to paint my hair shades of blue.
Streaky and soft,
like watercolor ink.
I found a man in orange,
offering me warm bearded kisses.
I didn’t want them but I was cold.
“This could be a good move for me,” I thought.
I went to the bathroom to wash the paint out,
but the whole room was blue.
I missed the night.
I smoked passion flower,
left a water bottle open in my bag,
slept with lipstick and glitter
for 12 hours and it’s still not enough.
You were in my dream–
at least a part of you was.
My childhood fish friend decided to move in with me.
It’s always dark now,
in every dream,
Blue, Black, Grey silvers of light
form the non-existing moon bounce off of puddles and trees.
I want to hide.
I want to be seen.
I don’t know which one I want more.
I am surrounded by vomit,
When did everything I write become so dark?
I always crouch down in the dark.
Like a crab
in the night
over damp sand.
I can smell blood when I’m down this low.
I wonder how many toes I’ve cut.
The Big Dipper shook dust off; onto my skin.
Made me a beacon in a constellation of people.
I am one of everything
and everything is one with me.
I’ll never wash off the glitter again.