This final image crushed me. It was a forewarning of what identity destruction can lead to if we
don’t truly understand ourselves to begin with.

I burst from every orifice but one.

i don’t think there will be booze
for sale, the style writer says, 
because it’s a synagogue

I am just a village idiot.

“You’re dirty,” you said to me, “I don’t kiss you because I think about how many dicks must’ve been in your mouth."

in the midst of a historic crisis, i ride my bike to the river

Everything tended to with love bears fruit they told me. 

Now I don’t care anymore. I’m writing posthumously; I’m invisible now – like an “aging actress”!

That every aspect of her life could have an expensive accoutrement was highly erotic.

I was sobbing too loud for the men’s room and I was in no shape to explain myself so I settled on the supply closet next to it. After a couple minutes of moping I got a BBM (we had to have Blackberries then, for whatever reason) from Jarrett. “Were fuck are you bro?”

There’s something unbearably endearing
about Pepto-Bismol in its retro European
packaging

How much would you pay to have an honest conversation with yourself?

He turns up late to almost all of his final exams, answers whatever questions he feels like and defaces the rest of the paper.

I vomited
up a prophecy in a dive bar,
inhaling hot dogs.

I lie in bed a long time before sleep comes. I wonder if I love Natalie or if I’m just so bored and I’m turning fleeting, tiny moments into full scale cinematic affairs in my head.

To begin abruptly: I’ve been some degree of suicidal since I was fourteen. I don’t think this makes me special. In fact, I think I’d be more of an individual if I’d always wanted to live.

A year wrapped in a day, a teardrop at the climax of every way that wounded, furthering the wounds.

I can tell she’s not convinced. But I’ve been Googling symptoms: confusion, nausea, loss of appetite, changes in sleep patterns, visual hallucinations, erratic behavior.

There is kind of a freedom in the humiliation of feeling a little bit trashy.

That was the world then…

That was the world then….bawdy cars and tawdry thoughts and rundown wannabe skyscrapers brownie baked by the sun that just looked cheap against the horizon and everybody

She breathed deeply and saw an image of the naughtiest kids in the afterschool program laughing at her.

waylon in the kitchen
pancakes
the pain of a tattoo gun on ribs 

The day I stopped being a woman was a hard-boiled egg kind of day. 

Drainage stains. Snow turns to shivering rain. The rear facing concrete walls.

I hold myself in the plank position. The little dog sits on the rug watching. It’s a very expensive rug. She’s not supposed to be here. He’s up on the purple couch and I do not know what he is

“you’re bad at finishing beverages that aren’t alcoholic,” you told me