Wait heavy beyond the pulling cords that shake the sun across the dredges of the sky
Fold my skin until it wrinkles and pours pebbles of tears and sweat
Because I am too hollow
“Can you hear me?” said the snake to his lover through the drum of the other’s skin
I wish I could
I’m afraid I’m never gonna be able to write.
Like I’m gonna be locked inside a room with fucken kids until I bald,
harass students 4 years after they have graduated college who have come to visit me because I once inspired them the same way stupid silly boys in hunting hats
killed me with their guns, like little microcosmic ink grenades reflecting pages plastered between my cum-stained finger grips.
I wanted that, just like my teacher in high school did
Ah man, so I’ve been:
putting all the kappa sigma dates into my calendar (thinking:things have been pretty rough this past semester, I hope we can make it through the spring term)
Looking over graduate apps (still open—-ah!). So many to send (I really wanna go to Cal State San B to get my teaching credentials)
Thinking about major goals I want to accomplish before graduating. My beautiful guyfriend (Evan) recommended I’d do this. Maybe I’ll post it up later later.
And the pic…I’m thinking: I kinda look better with short hair (it’s a pic of me unpacking into my apartment. I’ll be moving out this coming May and starting another adventure after—Yay!)
I had a pretty grand idea as to what I would write under this photo about a week or so ago(This is what I look like when I don’t take showers and live in a forest that borders the beach—camping), but I got lazy and started to forget. I stumbled into my forward warm room and forgot that its’ windows love the sun as much as my damn skin.
My in between thoughts that fuck organization:
I started to remember what it felt like when the skin didn’t have its’ damn urges to escape into the sun (I don’t think this photo quite follows).
