Bibliopunk

finding little pockets of focus. they feel good and that feeling lasts for a bit but then it dissipates. i feel broken. i don't see a path forward. i don't see myself completing anything. i couldn't help but share your despair after reading your poem. i t…

Feeling better, still unbelievably depressed, brain still scattered.

leaving zeroes in the diary you gave me not eating not eating well you leave a dull wake pulsing achingly into consciousness your face your name my stomach turns from stress I cannot sleep your face stares into mine your name echoes cruelly trapped in ech…

preparing, meditating waiting but never arriving angry at myself just for the emotional high soothing myself flirting with you you fall in love with my wasted potential write porn for me you beg and you are so easy to write for we type all night but I love

i. you say you are passably pretty I say I am passably alive we hold self-hatred in a death grip ii. tears hesitating tears in straight lines dying on our lips like thirst iii. when our grip finally weakens we panic and it creates just enough space for ob…

i. typing, typing till we are pixel sick drowning in obsession we can’t do mellow we prefer to rot in this room of mirrors re-reading the words that made us sick ii. muse for muse mirror against mirror we talk about writing poetry so we don’t have to whis…

i.

in kindergarten I was too avant garde for coloring books no work from that era survives today my mother attempted to save my hand turkeys but I lectured her, scolded her, ranted on how a true artist consigns her work to oblivion no one understood and all…

i. sunspot pointed a fresh shower worn off Greek myths slow thoughts ii.

i.