cars.

we're moving slow past an accident and we're
singing to the ambulance
saying
oh my god
i dont care about the car
and oh my god i dont care
at all.

-now now, every children. cars.

carpeted bathrooms.

dark teal green carpeted basement bathrooms with full sized wood-panel sided outdoor jacuzzi. reeking of flooded bathroom carpet mold. i'm in the hot tub in my bathing suit and my best friend's new best friend is pissing in the toilet right in front of me and complaining about her period. i listen in fascinated eager disgust and lie again about having started mine, oh a year ago or so.
under my now equally dingy wet bikini top lie pads of synthetic fiber and the boobs that just won't come.

conquilli.

scraping away layers of fingernail i dig into the tiny craters to collect friends.
push them pull them roll them this way that until they break free.
some still awake.
they lie in my palm clutched tightly and fall open like flowers dying on a battlefield
their alien friend eyes search me for food.
i am doing them a favor by greatly increasing their chances of getting laid
and they are doing me a favor as the only child in the woods collecting fairies to sing songs to make friends with.

counting sailboats.

my job today is to sit with seagulls on the rockshore and count horizonbound sailboats pouring out of the bay. 1234567 8 9...16. 12345 6 7 8 ...19.123456789101112...14.
the wind beats like a thunder drum the taut skinsail and echoes ripples out across the sea surface. i want to be a sailboat so i can be cute and small and steadfast off the edge of the world. i want to proudly be the simple intriguing shapes of a child's first drawings and change colors when the sun is hidden by a salty cloud.

goldmoon.

ritually collected dormant snails, pried them out of their craters, ripping the dried mucous sealant free, to plop the whole pile together in a shallow pool. white red green blue brown violet orange plaid spots i try desperately to focus on the tiny colors of pretty as bubbles stir to life. one or two climb out over the others have sex push them further under water and set out for a dry hole of their own, contentedly alone as the sun is released from the grasp of lethargic gargantuan pockets of sea tears.
as the sea breath moves like a growing blanket over the water turns cerulean and sputters under its touch. crystal liquid turns silver as it falls over the pitted surface of goldencrusted moon.

etna after the first snow.

gelato ballena etna.
god save the choco drizzle crown.
she almost disappears amongst her lazy low-lying cloud subjects, her imaginary mountain range. she menaces behind a bleak cityscape. looming as if just a step away but in reality over 100 kilometers. i want to march to the pinnacle sink my eyes into the burning churning pit and throw myself arms wide inside, a sacrifice to the ice cream gods.

photos of dead people.

photos of dead people when they were alive.

i killed a man.

i killed a man. a black man. a big one. i broke into the school and my mission was destruction and he was there all alone. i remember a gun and blood on my hands and a feeling that i had to hide but i couldn't stop. i didnt want to stop. i busted through the back windshield of his black car with my bare fists just for the hell of it and watched the blood surface and flow away on my knuckles. i woke to scratches on my fingers.
an infinite staircase iron with wooden planks broken broken broken destroyed as if by my destructive hand but i didnt do it and im trying to descend them to escape before the cops come.
lies and alibies.

insideoutumbrella.

the seaside is littered with umbrella skeletons, old skin hanging off to one side. abandoned like virgins raped and beaten by the sudden whims of a sea who knows not his own strength when stricken with fever, the tempest.

punishing.

this is why i sleep more when i'm depressed and fall right into that big pit. this is why i have the list of things i can do which could pull me out of it and strictly avoid them.

this is why i keep ridding myself of hair. to hurt her. to punish her.
how dare she be pretty.
how dare she be happy.

fuck living by the sea.

fuck living by the sea. that is not enough.
i want to live IN the sea
i want to die in the sea.

senza titolo.

lolling tongues out of mouths the sea moves into me. gentle surprising strength. im a ballerina thrown to shore. lazy and with decision the white kittens sail above the sea and all are powered by the listless whispers of the air sinking over me.

watermelon style.

i swallowed the sea and it grew watermelon style in the urn with the churn of my stomach is squeezed POP! explode implode make diamonds shower out of my skull.

button button who's got the button?

it is my belief that there exists a group of sicilians who walk around with their shirts hanging open tails flapping in a breeze about their waists. flies undone, coarse night-sea black hairs spilling onto the street
for i collect their buttons after the flapping rhythm of their uncaged clothing has long passed.

whale.

i plunge into cold as soon as i reach the edge, sharp crater rocks invading the tender soles of my feet just before liftoff. i am alone and the wreckage of the ship looms, an island on my right. boulders and open sea to the left. i am a frog machine efficient and fast fighting the demons of my imagination. they are sounds underwater, my heart in my ears magnified by the thinness of the atmosphere through which i face my fears.
the stairs chiseled out by a bearded grecian before my bedtime story pull me effortlessly onto the whale. she floats 20 ft out of the water but her tail descends at an alarming rate a slide into the forboding side, the open sea.
curiouser and curiouser.
tiptoe over squishing seabeds and sink deeper into water the titanic struck by iceberg i am.
pockmarked are wells open in the hull that fall forever into turquoise. it is not the fish i am terrified of, they are no bigger than a finger
but the feeling that under my feet is sea for miles deep and before me nothing but an infinite infinite infinite horizon.
i am standing on the edge of something huge.

sugar substitute.

i'm the new and improved factoryborn sugar substitute screaming quietly round the cellar in your cup of lukewarm tea. you can jab your silver spoon at me till your fingers are red and swollen i will never disappear. you cant get rid of me you'll have to swallow me whole.

korrecting my karma.

i may look generous but dont be fooled. the shit i stole for you means much more to you than the shit i stole from you means to me.