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 lost my grandmother’s ring.
The one with the rose quartz
and silver wire wrap.
I’m kneeling on my carpet
looking for wet spots.
I’m always picking up and putting down
such odd flavors.
I cannot hide the fire
that drives me.
It is lustful and all encompassing.
It smolders and burns
and when it hits the oxygen
curls into the night sky
reaches into the atmosphere.
It is wild and untamed.
It is desperate for release,
as am I.
It wants to take the city whole.
There’s a nice sea breeze
in the middle of the city.
I haven’t seen a seagull in 3 days,
but I found my seashell necklace.
I thought I lost it in 2013.
My hair is blue now
It looks dreamy, dreamy, dreamy
If you run your fingers through it
you will find starfish
and rough sand.
You can take the mermaid out of the ocean,
but you can’t take the ocean out of the mermaid.
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.
I was thinking about the Midwest.
White, orange, and black cars.
The color of the craft,
our New Year
Spotted on the first day of Summer.
Sometimes fresh starts aren’t always so fresh.
Sometimes they are hot and burning off scorching concrete.
Sometimes they are born on Midnight in the suburbs of Connecticut.
They sprinkled edible glitter on me.
How I wish I shined more,
How I wish someone would swallow me whole.
I will be the ground you walk on.
Steady and true
When you get dizzy
You can lay your head down
And pour all your tears onto me
I will use them to grow a tree for you
You don’t have to get up;
I will cover you with moss and ivy
Let you sleep it off for the next couple decades.
When you awake
You will be softer than you once were
Cool to the touch
So when you try again
You may lay your head on me once more
and I will protect you.
I will continue to bloom trees in honor of you
Something new will be birthed
Because of you
You see, they think our tears are our weakness
They do not know
We are Earth
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.