Getting High

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

Ever did.

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Blue vs. Orange

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.

Enough

I missed the night.IMG_3698

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,

hay,

and sleepiness,

and disappointment.

When did everything I write become so dark?

27


Thick mud 

Dried raspberries 

Hangovers 

Blood 

And rotting gums 

Water weight 

Crossed eyes

Lazy eyesssss

Green teeth

Peacock hair 

The chariot 

The chariot

The chariot 

Lions and witches 

Melon 

Lapis 

Energy balls 

Violence 

Violence

Violence 

Lessons learned from not writing shit down 

Lessons learned from lightning 

12, 13, 14

I threw out Temperance in a large white garbage bag.

The Hanged Man jumped in.

I held the flower flag of Death

and waited for them to be crushed,

but Temperance had other plans.

She slit open the bag from the inside

and all the trash spilled out with her.

Filthy, she ran into the woods.

The Hanged Man remained blissfully at rest

in his dirty tomb.

I was Death

and searched for skulls on the dirt road.

Six

I’ve been dreaming of Russian winters,

rescue planes,

taking 6-hour flights

for 45-minute brunches,

to show people how much I care.

Dashing red velvet ropes

for closed off areas

Grand marble staircases

Gathering troops

to hijack the castle

Waiting on snow

for the team to show up

and give me a ride

I have brunch plans in six hours.