别藐视务实的重要性 // do not underestimate the regulations of a reality

if you are experiencing that tumultuous overturning of the soul, deep and utter revelations every fifteen minutes, a friendly reminder: you prayed for this. // thank you / for coming / I loved / having you. // why is the measure of pride possession? why is the language of love loss? why do we riff off of others’ grief to supplicate our own lonely souls? careful my bones, she says, like a mantra in a circus ring on an episode of 30 Rock.

like a mantis in a suffering.

again, if you’re so very charming / then why’re you on your own / tonight?

the answer, of course, lies in pushing people away in the darkness to write. to lie wide-eyed on your back drinking in the thoughts that give you grief. the scientists will tell you the hollowed-out core is necessary for flight. another ’91 pisces once told me the crux of the cancerian is ‘I feel, therefore I am’. I’ve spent so long running from that part of me because somewhere I learnt to believe that emotions are inherently untrustworthy. which are different from your guts spilling between your knuckles like handfuls of crystals. which is different from going for therapy. which is different from actually seeking help for yourself. which is different from healing.

I think of the sweetest, most unassuming, fiendishly talented, crinkle-round poet who admitted to couching his true sentiments in post-modern jargon.
it’s like a cipher and a curse that you alone weave and unpick.
the hope is that someone will come along and be able to read through all of it at once.
the fear is that no one ever will, and it will have been your fault fault fault all along.

lay in bed and had an offending thought – what if one only allows those one truly admires to love them? in surrender? what if one disrespects someone but still wants to protect? what of those we want to see vulnerable but are unable to be vulnerable around? if we are honest with ourselves, ‘if you love someone truly, you also hate them a little bit’-type honest, we don’t always know when. it took two years for J to say, at the final parting, you don’t respect me. it came as a revelation to us both. so you think you can prevent this from ever happening again. you think you can stop the wolf swallowing the grandmother whole and playing dress-up with her granny panties this time. but you’re doing the world an upside-down disservice, the hanged man is cleverer than you because the bloodrush’s gone to his head, and you’ve started at the end again. if you give / if you receive / do it with both hands / but what happens with misgivings? we accept the love / we want to preserve, / assholes. to tame means to foster ties. it does not mean to break, to make docile. the fox was tamed / very yet gently / and still he runs the everlasting risk of tears. we accept the love that anticipates what we need before we know we need it. we accept the love that doesn’t enable us. we accept the love that makes us feel whole on our own, not made lesser by having it step in and do the dishes for us. we accept the love that gives it to us straight, that doesn’t vacillate between being mufflingly kind and excessively cruel, that sees neither with rose-tinted glasses or hate.

don’t strong-arm me into your own. don’t say it like a threat. not like a bulldozer. don’t hold it to your own throat while looking to see if I’m watching. I’m not watching. I refuse to watch.

kittykat and I, talking of gift-giving and the omens that it makes presents of. talking of how it is easier to parcel yourself out when you don’t know the difference between you and your person. the vagaries of liking. the criteria of genuine affection. I can’t be pre-menstrual because it happened but two weeks ago but I still want to gouge something out of my flesh. artificial periodical. being brokenhearted has been reduced to being a symptom.

I always want to sayang. this is the first problem. the path I have traversed has led me not only to seek pleasure but provide it. endless provisor of pleasure and peace. if you open yourself up as a safe space you must be aware you will have to perform evictions sometime. no one told me about the rent. some one told me about the draughty windows. but I wasn’t paying attention. the last lodger left a mess / left his toothbrush at my place / but still we held an open house / we thought it the same as / having an open mind.

remember when we were eleven
and playing reckless with our third eyes?
holding intuition at pencil-point
like a blood sacrifice?
which gods school you? I used to be
terrified to see ghosts if my third eye
were to ever be opened. now I am terrified
and I see ghosts
anyway

do you still live / where you live?
can I send you anything in the mail /
can I make your day a little better?
instead of caring for yourself
you always care for others. to
prevent the niggling feeling that
we’re all cunts / to someone
I compulsively try to make you feel
better about all your insecurities
at once / I can make you feel like you’ve
never met anyone like this before /
because you haven’t / but that’s not
the point

I wasn’t joking when I said
I get everything I want
and it makes me very
very unhappy / and when
I said everyone eventually
falls in love
/ with my being
disingenuous

I never felt so seen
as when he said
from one asshole to
another / good god girl
I wish I knew ya / good
god girl fuck the arapaima /
the yeasty smell of menstrual
offal / turning you on to
the bare facts / the bare facts are /
I don’t want to be haunted /
but you showed me magic /
and that was very important,
the magicks that you see before
anyone else

I saw it first

we ate the fish and cried for days
and our songs and symbols were
co-opted

why hold me ransom?
the poem you once wrote
that holds the line
you will have to learn and relearn this

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