dissociated

i want my clothes to smell like smoke

i ran out of space to write on my pants so i write here instead

the desk is glossy with lipgloss and polaroids and perfume

i felt last stages of my life

dying like my plants on the table

the room is blue and breathing

sometimes drugs help me breathe

wine and ketamine so i can talk to you

but i never know what to say

wrapped over and under and about fuzzy blankets

it smells like oils and outside air

i’m not allowed to breathe and rolled up papers

lydia clinging to my stuffed animal sloth

me clinging to loving someone who can’t love me back

i was trying to teach you about the plants

you left me growing all alone

sometimes i wonder if all my poems are the same

then i write this one think i’m sober now

threading in and out like this turkish techno

my face is hot like a fever

still stinging from the fire

i asked for help but stanford doesn’t care

i just hope i can get some love to warm my hands soon

this ink doesn’t even stain the page right

i feel you like a waterfall of anxiety right now

my pains growing on the stones like little moist mosses

everything is broken on this desk

all the bones in all my translucent fingers

glowing in the dark white and powdery like coke

harold’s purple crayon ate my consciousness

explosion of sparks in the dark came hard and yellow

like a line melting under a lighter

it’s coming in bright like a labyrinth

the fingers under your strings choked into an odd godly glory

i kissed someone with a pomegranate rash

his sweetness was palpable and bitter

now tears eat my cheeks like pomegranate seeds

pockmarked into my mind like irrelevant thoughts

i wish i was a snowman

all icy an agglomeration of pieces of myself

but none of them moving

when i was little my friend ruthie told me she could never sit still her foot tapped incessantly and when i put my hand to still it her finger twitched and like the moles you bop down in the arcade her body was alive with rebellious movement on instagram are videos of microscopic organism constantly video game players on my skin completing task after task until they fade away only to be replaced my body a microcosm of movement as complex as the movements of cars in the intersection caught on the security cams hacked by god beloved by the devil that covid spiked wall ricocheting like a drunken driver to cause my collision

my neurons are firing too quickly to put a pen down

all night long they slap the pavement of brain like big shoes

oversized and overdressed and overtethered to meaning