i just want to sleep when i sleep i don’t have to worry that i’m a bad person because • i don’t read any more than twenty minutes a day (and i used to say “but how do you not read? what do you do?) • i have no money because i spend it on things like going out for lunch and ice cream that makes me sick (who needs money though, we seem to be fucked...
Moose on the Bottles and Shit
What is up with beer commercials lately They’re meant to be inspiring and to make me want to Go camping and run in the ocean and the forest with lights and a bottle of beer in my hand But instead they just make me miss times I haven’t had yet and think about the good old days as if they’ve already happened If I designed beer commercials I wouldn’t make them make people...
Dandelions and Tonic Water
bitter lingers in your mouth like the taste of throwing up just so you could say you did like when your eyes stop blinking but instead of getting warm they freeze over like a duck pond in winter like when you lie about seeing a snake in the woods for a story to tell someone you don’t know like when you cry on someone’s shoulder and then run away to hide like when wet clothes make you cold...
I miss you. I know it’s silly, but I want to be where you are, I want you to show me off, and run your fingers through my hair. I want you for such selfish reasons, I want you because you make my worries curl away, in little licks of flame. But if I wanted you for selfless reasons, it would be conceited, because then, I’d be assuming that I make your worries drip to the...
sometimes she feels invisible but nobody else ever...
the stars have fallen off my ceiling but I didn’t put them back on and I’m sure that’s important symbolically in a way I haven’t noticed yet my favorite pen ran out of ink and the new one I’m using is the same shape but at the beginning of each sentence it skips a few letters and that might be a clever metaphor for something I don’t understand I owe like thirty dollars to the library which...
why do men always say “look at me” and then tilt up your chin when you don’t
there are some days when every part of me is too sharp and I have a lot of gaping holes that get caught on doorknobs when I walk by
i when I see the sun setting I always expect to turn in the opposite direction and see it setting there, too. Like a whole day passes in the sky while we all sleep underneath it. ii it’s interesting that there is one earth with one sun and one moon, but there are many many people and many animals and blades of grass, and on our just one moon there are no people but there are very...
it’s nice to imagine the face you make when you’re asleep. you probably look like a little boy, except the tiny bit of stubble that’s always on your cheeks. if I was there right now and you were sleeping, I would want to kiss the little hollows in your cheeks and brush your hair off your forehead. and then I would snuggle up beside you and it would be nice because I’d know that even if I turned...
when I sit down I keep my thighs hovering above the bench (or couch or whatever) so that they look thinner than they are sometimes when I’m around this boy I forget to think about not letting my thighs touch the bench (or couch or whatever) and it’s nice because he (this boy) doesn’t seem to care about my thighs or really even anything that I hate it’s amazing...
People always talk about how the snow makes everything so beautiful. So covered in white, like a duvet keeping the whole world warm. So thick and dusty, like someone sifted powdered sugar onto the earth like it was a crepe. But, in the city the snow just makes everything uglier. It gathers up on the sides of the road and gets stale and grey from exhaust. It melts slowly and selectively, leaving...
you make me feel as though I am running down a concrete hill and my feet are making slapping sounds on the pavement and as I get closer and closer I move faster and faster until I am not really running it is more like I’m jumping leaping flying throwing myself into the air into your arms and leaving all of my failures fallacies empty mistakes behind me underneath the cracks my soles...
how are your grades?
I lied I lied and you should hate me I lied and I want to slice my skin open and get in a fist fight and sleep all day in your arms I lied and I want you to wrap me in a towel and tell me it’s going to be ok and rock me back and forth I lied and I like the way my hand fits into yours like I’m a little girl and you’re supposed to take care of me I lied and I like...
my shoes were too small and the one thing you were supposed to be was proud of me and you weren’t i don’t know what to do my shrink told me to stop doing it if i want to stop it’s sad when even your shrink gives up on you i wondered if I should stop trying stop doing anything for you and start doing things for me but i just carry blindly on
tilted head is a sign someone likes you I guess I like everyone people say I remind them of doves and does delicate fragile /inquisitive/ animals I remind me of nothing no animals I tilt my head and like everyone and I just want everyone to like me back everyone should like me back everyone should everyone I don’t know
someone once bemusedly told me that i cleared my throat in the most feminine way possible, and i never forgot it. i have some kind of reoccurring cough (runs in the family) and ever since he told me that, i’ve been perfecting my feminine throat clearing. now when i cough in front of men, they want to keep me warm.
when i think about sitting on your bed crying and how you put your arms around me like i was a black hole that maybe might possibly explode into a million peices of stars and clumps of dust in the shapes of bunnies but also maybe possibly could be in danger of just sort of crumpling up onto myself like a black hole that was maybe more shy than the other one and would like to keep its dust bunnies...
the drops of oceans on my cheeks go sideways swiping swish swish swish like windshield wipers that never clean the edges of the window and leave that stupid triangle in the middle
as a doorknob
I used to play a game with myself where I had to lie as still as possible without moving (except for breathing didn’t count) and I tried to make every part of me as slack and limp and loose as it could be because the game was that I’d pretend I was dead just a body with nobody in it and what I always thought about was how limp do people get when they’re dead...
I’ve never been too low to fall Hung by creamy crimsonned wrists Bound by leather at my seams Shake me up and pour me out Frothy crimson sugared well Spilling out like ink and pen Empty empty empty darling time to spill and time to fall
call me names
well his name belongs with strong warm hands and lips on mine like tinted breezes and his touch belongs with lower case m’s on repeat and reassuring hand squeezes like half smiles and the way he smells belongs with being held together tight and paper tied up with a knot and the colour of his eyes belongs with mugs of tea and cinnamon and thick and stirred...
Meet the Blogger
Name: Nico Favorite book: King Dork, Cheeseburger Subversive, Anne of Green Gables, The Magicians, Fight Club. Favorite film: Love and Other Drugs, Midnight in Paris, Fight Club, Stand By Me, The Blind Side. Favorite school subject: English, art, photography. Favorite fictional character: Loki Laufeyson (Comic book version), Anne Shirley, Tom Henderson. Favorite food: Ice cream. ...
I am meant to be eating spring rolls at a sushi restaurant and reacting when the switch on the lamp doesn’t click twice but slides in a counterclockwise smooth rotation and for when the first night of march smells like the showers at camp and for remembering how your lips feel on my shoulder and your hands around my waist.
marmalade and jam are not the same thing so that’s pretty life affirming right there. I mean marmalade and jam aren’t the same. next, you’ll tell me that there’s a difference between when voices are hushed in revertive awe and when they’re quiet because there’s nothing left to say or that, there’s two separate versions of the way I spell...
A Short Fiction
Well Her hair was blue like the aerobics mats the pretty girls sweat on at the gym. And She walked like she was poured from the sweat the pretty girls sweated at the gym. But I’m guessing she gets her exercise from jumping jacks in front of the mirror and dancing to alt rock when nobody’s around. Also Her shoes looked like they should have words scrawled on them but somehow...
Cold Shake, Condensation Down The Sides
Being cold is hard to shake. It gets right in you and slows down your blood; you can feel yourself getting creaky and pliable like wire. Your muscles turn sore and tighten so uncontrollably that you can almost see the lactic acid pooling and freezing over your joints, like stirring thick jam on the stove. Your hands go dry and they curl like dead leaves, your knuckles red and chapped like...
Sometimes I wonder if I have a hearing problem ‘cause I’m always real concerned I’m not hearing someone calling me. I keep my door open at night, all the time really, so I could hear if someone was calling me. I hate the sound of the washing machine because it’s so loud it blocks everything else out and I get real concerned I wouldn’t hear if someone was calling me. But sometimes I wonder if...
Place A to Place B
Dyou what just pisses me off to no end when you can feel your heartbeat and the pulse of blood in your fingertips and they’re at different times like your heart pumps and your blood is a step behind like why can’t the blood just go from one place to the next instantaneously like it’s just so fucking stupid that my whole arm has to get filled up with blood before it gets...
love, not really an eating disorder
I love your willow switch arms, and the way your skin is white like thin skim milk. I love the way your veins course across your gently sculpted bones like tubes of rusty metal. I love the way your cheeks are pinched and how the hollows in your throat are carved like stone. I love the curls of you that fell away as I slowly chiseled off your excess. I love the cold your body hoards and...
I want, need, lust after pride. I would do anything to hear “I’m so proud of you” come from someone’s lips to mine. I would get down on my knees and take it all to hear the words gush out into my waiting pulse. I would carve my sins into my flesh and never let them heal if it would coax the words from your lips. I would burn every word I ever wrote in a fit of...
Hello, My Name Was
my sheets smell sour my face is sticky and I really should clean up those laundry maybe I should also write a poem and include a grand sweeping gesture of sentimentality and in which indicate how I feel which would be sad and bitter like cum and I guess I should put up those dirty dishes but you know it might be fun to just hammer them up on the walls and see how long it...
Actually Just My Favourite
Open- We see a young man of about twenty sitting in an apartment. He’s simply dressed, and looking around, but not in an unfamiliar way. More like he’s remembering things, or looking for changes. Her- “Ok how about… This?” As she says “this” she steps out of a door with a mirror hanging on the back. She raises her arms and twirls. She’s dressed...
Girl who walked down the street And stopped to read every sign Why would you do that Slow down to read Every word On every sign Every billboard Every posting Girl who walked down the street And stopped to read every sign Why would you do that And how are you like that Can I achieve your sense of wonder Can I catch your interest Girl who walked by me on the street And stopped to...
I See, my problem is that I enjoy being stupid. I don’t mean stupid like, not knowing the timetables or some shit like that. I mean stupid as in goofy, silly, reckless, fearless, wholehearted. Child-y, in a way, I suppose. Not childlike, or childish, though. No, not child at all. Kid. I want to be a kid. I want to be the one to climb to the top first, I want to be the one to say what...
How about we just disappear? The you who says I’m mathematical in value and methodical in the least methodical manner and she who says that maybe my nose ain’t so bad and that someone could think the little round of my stomach is cute like a daisy chain How about the both of y’all just disappear, dissolve into the wallpaper like woodlice in a beach log the you who...
you press the nerve that runs right up the small of my back all the way to my hair. you ache the way I always do but better. you are the thread sticking out of my teddy bear’s nose. you let my eyes fall closed at night and the gaze that falls on me when I write. you love me smudged with mascara and perfume and ink. you love me messy and childish and girly, you love me and I can’t...
I can’t decide whether it’d be really awesome to be an anchovy or really shitty. Cause on the one hand, you’re packed in all nice and warm and cozy with your anchovy buddies and y’all are just chilling out being friends. But on the other hand, you’re packed in so close and tight with all these other anchovies and what if you want to flip around or shift positions or what if you’re afraid of...
lacy white dress
it’s so hard to keep track of the good and the bad because some things are so good (like when someone says “you’re real good for him you know” and when someone holds you like they won’t let go) but some things are so bad (like when your mom leaves your ballet class after five minutes while you cry and when your brother tries to run away and all you can say is no no...
Shame is disgusting. Shame is the worst thing I’ve ever felt. Shame is not the kind of disgusting that is squishing a slug under your bare toes, or hitting your head so hard you vomit on the ground and lie in it while the pain throbs like a hammer in your veins. Shame has no elements of a story to tell or an abscence of blame, shame has no pity. Shame is the thing that creeps up on you in...
You are the feeling that presses my lips together and then opens them with such force it’s as if I’m blind, deaf, and mute and the only only only way to tell youwordsis to spell them out with every swipe of my tongue and nip of my teeth And when I run my little fingertips down your jaw it’s the beggining of the best thing I’ve ever written a monologue filled with...
hiatus. Be back soon.
She scrubbed the stupid off, and it worked. Her raw skin made up for missing things, and soap made it easier to get red eyes. She went from cream to tainted pink and from vanilla paper to scrawls of ink worthy thoughts. Cause the stupid was all scrubbed off, stripped off, the end
How about we just disappear for a while? You could call me darlin’ and scoop me up around the waist, and I could swing my arms ‘round you neck and kiss your smile a little wider. We could fade into the framework for a day, just you, and me, your girl forever and the wallpaper could be pink instead of yellow, and we’d just be gone for long enough to hold our hands like one. We could...
I have a longing for Texas, right deep inside my heart. Don’t ask me why; I’ve never been there, or even seen a western movie worth watching. I’ve never had green bean casserole, or smelled the desert and been enchanted by the greatness. But Texas is buried in my heart, like a shard of glass that’s been grown around, wrapped and warped until it’s too late to take...
His arms are so nice. So pretty. I know boys don’t like being pretty, but, his arms are pretty. I could draw pictures on them, with my finger-tips, forever. All smooth, and, dark, and, pretty. No scars, except for this one on his hand, but, he doesn’t remember how he got it. I don’t remember mine, either. That’s a lie, I do. I remember all of them,...
the whole entire world
when I can scrabble my fingers to your heartbeat and land my palm on your chest like a leaf curled up in the wind and feel you being alive next to me and when I hold your hand in mine and catch the bottom of your wrist and wrap you in my fingers the way I fall asleep at night and when I put my lips to yours the way the ocean meets the sea and I can feel your smile underneath the kiss...