honeymint 15.11.24

i have dreams where you walk them from the room where they died. back outside to the beckoning light, graciously servient as ever.

in the room where i died, you come to me like a dog. lays its head between my lungs. in the wake of a new grave.

maternity/tide execution 31.10.24

and bones washed through the fits of tides, too small for man, too large for mouse.

a moon lashed over an ocean with the rabid pulse of snare prey. its white veins blowing, cauterized by golden sand.

oh, it only wanted to be loved.

from west coast to east,

gilded in glimmering warmth,

where my anchors fall.

there is no rain 11.07.24

there is the violent longing to be left alone.

and despite it, there is something hauntingly human left in me. it will never be seen. there will not be rain.

lovers 27.04.24

rabbit on the cutting board, splayed out in ward 6, its brothers give a eulogy to the shore. the gears inside are whirring. clunking. rhythmic.

leave anything open for too long and it will start to go bad. clots of rust form around the joints. i can debride this rabbit's wounds a hundred, a thousand times, every day a new suture; it will never run free. it will never run free.

euthanasia/tide fantasy 23.04.24

they'd betted on my bones. the break - they called it love - to be gone to a better place.

my own hands? claw into the ceiling, rippling, breaking, and sink into the air, and swallow the last of the sea.

a better place. it flooded for me.

no promises 18.03.24

don't tell me about the sky.

don't tell me about grief.

i'll sleep in this machine, let it breathe for me. wring out the liquid sins clouding up my lungs. sleep with limp fingers clasped around a promise.

please, send another angel. i won't let this one die.

a prayer dissolves from my hands like gun smoke.

home safe 04.03.24

all this. all this, for the bars to be barely stung with teeth marks. this time, i say, like clockwork, the cage will give in. until my gums bleed, and the wounds heal, and i bleed them again.

i knew it since '21, i knew it earlier - i'm not fighting, there's no war. only resistance, cleaning the blood, pacing the pen, sleeping through it. dragging the ache in circles and i'll drag it to the gates. it's a number on my ear. it'll be with me at the gates.

twin sun devotional 28.02.24

i rip them off. they grow back. this might be forever.

communion/tide ritual 27.02.24

it's okay. it is okay. i don't need to be loved.

i need the rot torn off until they find something holy inside. i need to let them eat. they shouldn't call it love.

the water splinters in. the liquid sky melts. the waves that lick the grave are called love.

cornered rabbit syndrome 22.02.24

the wolf thinks it knows all about rage. the tunnel vision of hunger can often look a lot like it, through eyes that crave and seek. hunger is a lust that many can utilise. but it is not rage.

rage isn't found in teeth-first survival. rage waits until they're already too close. until it's all we have left.

your heaven to watch from 11.02.24

i won't let it catch me, but i'll leave a trail to my door.

i wasn't taught a lot about kindness. feigning surprise when the handle turns is the best i can do.

my hell to rot in 07.02.24

easy recipe for inferno, using ingredients you have at home.

i can write this hell in a thousand ways. as if finding the right metaphor could break me out. as if letting the leeches bite draws out the disease. keep sending angels, Lord, but they won't make it home to you.

i wrote about divine creation. i know now that there's nothing divine in these hands. any beauty in life was just out of reach from the start.

dirty torture 05.02.24

trapped.

it suffocates.

it's beating like nails into wood.

i haven't slept in days. something is happening.

i've been flirting with it since the last episode, forcing it down, choking, 'getting better'. it was bound to come to a head, oozing with screams of "please kill me, please kill me, with surgical precision". i can't think. it's plastered to my face. it's telling me to turn and run the other way, onto the tongue, rolling like lit ash on a roof. it was there, since november, or october (or it never left from years ago), i can see it when i read back. it's dangerous, the way it feels like it's all making sense.

i can't believe i used to love it. i want to love it. let it eat me. i could turn to god, if only he was shaped like home, if only i knew what that is. i can't keep up with the fragile decay. it's about finding a way to die while the world looks on and sees me living. i should consider that a talent.

survival horror 18.01.24

i am paralysed with fear.

nothing else to do but keep waiting and waiting. i could die before i get there; i would never have lived.

regrets 18.12.23

i hope it feels like safety. i hope its breath is warm on my back. i hope its mouth feels like a womb, bleeding with grief again. i hope my bones are licked bare.

(i think this is all i can hope for).

swallowed by eternity 13.12.23

i have these visions of them finding my body.

what would be made of the things i make and own, little fragments of my soul left behind. what would claw out of my corpse in the end, the colour of the trail left behind: questions finally answered.

the fear of death was all that bound me to reality. i don't want to die, but i expect it, my feet dragging me forward, too heavy to turn around. too tired to be truly scared. i'm afraid i may be gone already.

i spend less time awake now than ever, addicted to the gluttonous bliss of sleep that never lasts long enough. addicted to not knowing. i'm only good at finding a way out; avoiding, escaping, disappearing.

it's a goddamn miracle that i got this far.

no exit 08.12.23

If I've got to suffer, it may as well be at your hands, your pretty hands. (Jean-Paul Satre)

big bad wolf 28.11.23

after all, his jaws were made to fit my throat.

he saw me drooling on my palms where i'd crushed it all.

he'll chase me. i can run. i can run and run and run. the teeth will sink in anyway.

third man 24.11.23

what are my goals? what do i live for? for love, or for hate? the blood is always boiling. at night, when the earth slows, it makes its home in me. in these hollow walls, below the empty sky, it could offer me anything. i would take anything.

i would take its hand and lead it out. it could follow the red trail behind me. i could let them see my body, limp, untouchable. i could live for their hatred of it.

heart and soul 16.11.23

built by man, promised with deathlessness.

the beast comes quietly for all with a heartbeat. nothing so permanent could house a thing so fragile.

a refute 07.11.23

these hands, moon-sent, blessed to partake in the divine act of creation.

these teeth to tear out those parts made godless. the parts made human by err, made a vessel for man to shelter, to marinate. to imbue and poison the next.

the self must be earned to be a sculpture in god's image.

heir 02.11.23

it's spilt out of my dreams now.

it's leaking through the cracks. rotting through the casket i'd crammed it in, seeping purge fluid from the seams.

his body melting inside of me, and i can feel her growing from the mold. i don't want to die here. i don't want to die in a dream.

gestation (marauders ii) 26.10.23

four years ago, i killed her. i swallowed her.

she's clawing her way out. i'll kill her again, desperately. they'll find my knees on blood-caked sand, tossing pieces of her to sea.

something terrible happened to me. no, it was me, this is my guilt to bear. the shame forms apparitions now, and the morning can't cease the echo of a newborn screaming at the moon as a blade sinks in.

marauders 25.10.23

sometimes she cries out, guttural. more often it's a ragged whisper, a voice that seeps through the trees and the sky and the sea.

she cries because she never came home. she's longing for me on the pier where i left her. over the edge. floating, face down.

i killed that baby, mother, tell her ghost to kill me too. i killed her in the ocean. they'll find her, mother, they'll find her fingers squeezing my afterbirth still. they'll find me running.

grief begins in the womb.

emissary 08.09.23

he held it softly in his curled fist, the glow pulsing and writhing through his fingers.

he pulled his arms over it, the embrace melting, the burning cascade.

the heavy welts left behind would sing in its voice all night.

the axe always forgets 02.09.23

she's drunk and sick as a blood-damp tongue, soothing my scars like a dog. she's soft as a blade pressed between teeth. a memory, muzzled and chained.

hello world 29.08.23

it's been still for too long, and ghosts are filling the cracks again.

what these wordless mouths could take from me, i may never know.

leave me alone 24.12.21

i'm tired of the self. it is existential warfare cloaked in skin. i am a living, breathing adult, robbing the grave of a child, slicing new lines where the old were blurred.

i don't want to decide what is real. i don't want to think about anything anymore. i hope i haunt myself to suicide. what once occupied this space is gone; i held it underwater until its lungs filled up.

today 14.12.21

tortoiseshell butterfly died in my palm

the last of the geminid meteors

babylon the great (rev 17) 11.12.21

saccharine, infirm, reluctant — on the third day he rose, as the womb confessed and the theatre plead repentance.

he is the daughter of filth, and it will be baptised on his forehead and his chest where the mother's fangs pierced.

with the seven mouths of hers to feed, he will be smothered beastly in the abominations of the earth. she will bring him to ruin and leave him naked, she and the flames will eat his flesh and inebriate with his blood.

pilot 30.11.21

i've chased my body in circles for days. it gloats at me through the mirror. too heavy for me to carry. ugly, selfish, carnal. no wings can give this thing flight, no tether to keep it from sinking. crushing me, breathless. i hope this ship goes down without me.

truce 28.11.21

don't tell me how to fight; i'm not fighting this, there's no war.

there's no gallant knight within me armed for battle. you would not call Lamb, fleeing the jaws of Wolf, a heroic act of bravery: two soldiers teeth gritted and swords drawn.

don't show me my grief and call it courage. pictures of the wounds pulled up on a powerpoint slide. torso peeled back on a biology classroom table, my hind legs broiling in the oven.

i'll wear the medal. a sprig of rosemary. a scab.

the filth of girlhood 25.11.21

the blood of the covenant laid out on the bed, staining your sheets. the water of the womb seeps instead into your veins. a third degree burn worn like a chastity belt. you're supposed to bleed the first time.

mary's entry 24.11.21

angels aren't real, but he could've fooled me.

cult leader 18.11.21

and so they all flocked together to feed as iron wept from the eye of the archer.

bite the cake. take a bite. chew it up and swallow. let me feed you, you look so hungry. can i offer you some wine?

half-messiah, half-pariah 11.11.21

i circle her cautiously, stalking with vulgar ambition. i'm sharp bright eyes cutting through the trees. they always told me i was dangerous, and i never fully believed them until i grew old enough to feel it myself — the aching evil hunger that just seems to glow from me. maybe a weight i bear from being once so very close to getting out of here, maybe a womb-fresh sin kissing the tips of my petals when i blossomed. either way, i know ordinary people don't feel this. i know there must be something savage and bestial within me.

the veins on my skin are cracks where the fire wants to swell and burst out. my ceramic hands barely held together. i could crush myself if i wanted to.

my mind does not belong to me 26.10.21

cut off the mold, scoop out the rot.

carve me a face. i'm a new girl now. nobody would ever know.

son of steak 13.10.21

i exist once again with the damp freshness of a molting roach. born to clean wounds penned in blood by serpent's hand, this is all i am

mondkalb 11.10.21

and i was taken from you as eve from adam, incubated for thirty six days. they pressed the flesh to my ribs with cold bare hands, tore my eyelids back and my fingers apart. they pulled me from the oven, apple still between my teeth and told me not to bite.

stillborn 07.10.21

this at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh. does she know how you feel?

zeroself 01.10.21

the roadkill rabbit, the wasps, the low hum. the driver (distant), the hawk (even further). the benzodiazepine, the embalming fluid, the ghost. the cat.

with a hissing divinity 30.09.21

i think i will sew everything shut so nobody can get in

mutual aloneness 27.09.21

like reaching into a pond, the fish brushing past my fingertips, slipping through my hands each time i grab ahold of one.

a true alien sees through a wider lens than most. pictured, the world, and the peripheral adjacent (where the Past creeps in, its sly tendrils infecting. where the Past rips the skin from the flesh to reveal the Truth beneath).

haunted 23.09.21

the fawn, already half-empty, dragging its hooves from the greed.

the wolf, lusting blades bared, 35mm eyes casting hungry spotlights through the grass.

twelfth....elsewhere 21.09.21

the story the fallen angels tell: i lost my footing, the ladder slipped, i tumbled to earth in feathers like a dying dove/in glowing light like a meteor/in a flurry of snow and stars."

i writhed in heaven's jaw until it spat me out and brushed its teeth. they wrapped me in a polypropylene woven sack fastened with zip ties and threw me down into the ocean, hoping i'd drown.

20.09.21

she used to listen to eminem. she was supposed to name her daughter after his (hailie), but the daughter never came (her fallopian tubes tied her ovaries in a chokehold).

she's a different person now. she has many stories to tell. the umbro hoodie with the racing stripes is collecting dust in the back of the closet.

it amazes me how people have such 'full' lives, and constantly shed themselves and grow and build and Do and Live. they make their lives look so Lived, i wish we could polish them and encase them in cabinets in hallways and make museums (but people don't hold themselves together, there are pieces of people in every corner of the earth, a person's twice-molt self could deliver pizza to them and they'd forget to tip). i'm stale; burned and brittle around the edges, cold, raw pink meat in the middle.

... 17.06.21

im sick of this living. i want to feel something real. i want to be real. i want to exist. i'm nothing. hollow, empty, i'm nothing without my disease. i'm nothing. i do not exist.

throat rot 14.06.21

all this to be pure in the eyes of the Lord

it will be worth it for my freedom

black dog 05.06.21

i feel sick. im tired. i hate everything. i cant serve this body any longer.

waiting for a miracle 21.05.21

sometimes I snap into reality and think. Is this really how I want my life to be? and then I laugh and answer Yes to myself. silly me doesn't know what true happiness is.

limb by limb/tooth by tooth 20.05.21

i wish that i was bullet proof

idk honesty 18.05.21

it's all connected in my head. reading about it makes me want to vomit.. it's so horrible, it's all so bad, I just want to be pure. I can't cope with being exposed to uncleanliness. I want to be empty, I want my stomach hollow, my insides untouched by sin. i just want to be clean,pure and safe. i want to scrub my body until it's all red, rid of my dirty skin, and i can't serve this selfish body any longer.

this happens again and over again and i still can't find an answer. i want to just rot away and be finished.

12selfhood 17.05.21

..and Satan entered into Judas who was called Iscariot, belonging to the number of the twelve. (luke 22:3)

..and the Devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever. (revelation 20:10)

day 0 13.05.21

i need a word with god. this week has gone so fast. why am i such a slave to this body? i really, i really just want to overcome this. i think maybe more than anything.. but idk, i want a lot of things. maybe that's my problem. i guess i'm grateful for the fat on my bones and the breath in my lungs. deep down, i haven't lost my place. i guess i just need to find a new way to experience myself.

you were in my dream 08.05.21

we were sitting around outside the hall, there was some other people but i don't remember them. it was raining but we were singing anyway. you asked me about my house and my pets.. i think every time i address an entry to "you", i'm talking to a different person.

or maybe not.

??? 05.05.21

???

seven-headed 04.05.21

it replays again and again in my mind. i think of their bodies seized, as the serpent writhes through them. i think of maggots eating a mass. my stomach hurts so much!!

not going anywhere 02.05.21

it's never been fashionable to be me.

what is life but the devout faith that you'll die?

I'm not sad.. not having a bad day. I'm very fatigued. I miss someone.. something, maybe a feeling, beyond what this world can offer. that's all..

changing 28.04.21

how to walk the line between forgiveness and self-sacrifice? I think these things only come with time. today I'm not sure who I am, how much I am, or how much I'm allowed to be, and I won't be sure tomorrow either.

I don't want to hold all this hatred within me forever. I can't let it be written on my grave.

dandelion leaves 25.04.21

my jaw is always so tightly clenched. muscles painfully aware of themselves. feels like i have to actively hold my body together, or i'll lose it.

i've never felt like a gorgeous daedalian machine, the way school books tell me I am. i share more genes with a kit car.

i'm at atomic war with myself and everything beyond the things i deem "safe". i can't step outside of this anymore. i want to live monotonously until i die.

fear of the flock 23.04.21

all these people get up in the morning and make themselves look nice for the day and go to work and do their chores and meet with their friends. people buy clothes online and dye their hair,and people commute in herds from one field to annother. i've not felt fear like this,not for a long time.

i can feel them looking at me. the trees have eyes, the windows hide cameras, the concrete street writhes beneath me

i'd take my chances with only the crabs on christmas island as my friends.

1 corinthians 15:55 22.04.21

so tired of being so young

let me break free from this skull that holds me together.. let me fall apart, let my "selves" unravel..

i'm grateful for sin on earth. the pain you've caused will one day take me home.