2015

1. I set your room on fire 

and rolled around in the mourning ash,

laughing

like a mad girl

writing a love song,

singing a freedom chorus. 

No recollection would be complete

without a nail in my hand

that has your name on it

pinning me to the prayer of 

thank god and goddess and spirit and the like

that you gave me a fire once

to set you ablaze. 

2. Deep breaths are calming

free from your smoke. 

3. Mountain air,

CO2 and lack of conspiracy,

a long hike with no underbrush 

because that is the first to burn. 

I thought you were a tree but you’re just rot,

you wanted to be irreplaceable and I knew you were not. 

Immolate. 

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I am sleeping on the couch

because the bed got so empty tonight

empty like a clean bowl

nice set of China, we took it out

to use whenever we wanted because

fuck special occasions, it’s an occasion to be alive 

and in love 

and to miss your laugh. 

I painted blue lines on my body

and you told me how your veins once collapsed

from dehydration, 

I once drank so little water I turned into a stone ridge

and got Scarlet fever. 

Same mindset. 

Same rings around Saturn and this dishware. 

Same hole I’m boring into the floor I pace

because I can’t sleep on a red eye. 

The sheets are made of glass. 

Curation and preservation of where you last saw me. 

Arrange your art so it’s beautiful to the eye. 

I have two couches in this living room,

one for me and one for you.