i would like to write more!

16th of May 2024

write about evolution and devolution. how do we unravel & re-ravel? think about what histories our bodies & communities & species & worlds are made of.

My words were chewed with anguish, i hope they still are
I ask, oh may i,
be the tumour on your side? A complex interchange of litmus within your soft viscera? i would swim through your intestines, i would not come up for air
May i be re-conceived within your mind? I know you wouldnt let me
Because instead i am A haemorrhage in your sun, let me grow and strangle the light that fills your eyes
maybe i am less
Maybe i am gone for you
I am stitched together in your textbook of plastic surgery, in an image i am yours
Let the bruises appear on my arms and shoulders, mark my collarbone and grow towards my soul. why hadn't you seen me?
Am i a familiar sound in foreign territory? A leech within your swamp? You wish me gone, i know that much
Yet after all this, you know i would give everything to swell with you once more
In the wake of all you've grown on me i believe i am owed at least that
The lichen that sticks to every part of me you crossed. A crown of thorns placed in my hair like they did your son
So i will pray
I pray i will be less wounded in death
My many eyes i was born to watch with, i pray my punishment will be a weight of blindness. I speak in a voice that is not yet a voice, for fear i become its creator. How have i come so far without doing so? With the burden i draw and the pain i read and yet everyone evolves without me
I am not selfish, though born with such gift. there are enough of me already
i repeat without aim
It is all obvious, i know that, yet still i ask why
I build my sovereign state from your exertion, and i dont change. Nothing lives within my walls, my kingdom is barren. the plains grow stones instead of flowers ,yet still i lay among them
I am not rage, not fear, not regret, not worry, i don't know. how do i describe something i never met
I am a feather under a fingernail, i am tomorrow, i am only a day
I am hurt
I cut my palms and crush what little is left of the world. Its eyes and wings have rusted. It grazes my skin
I shape, i work, i wedge and knead, i pinch and tuck and force out the air pockets
A human form to contain my memories, textures i've touched, the souls I have reached, sounds ive heard, things i was meant to do. Moving like a mans first stumbling steps, alone in a grass field, seeing the sky forever
The sunrise looks nice this morning, doesn't it? Perhaps it would be better to focus on that

10th of May 2024

consider 'trace elements'-- barely noticeable things and what they change. think butterfly effect! are their effects expected & small or disproportionate? is a 'trace element' an extra bit of DNA? is it some milk in a loaf of bread?

i think of the present and it confuses me
I exist from an infinite scroll of present times passed long ago, or gone in just a second. My actions: a calcareous shell whorled in a spiral around my own columella. My slow eyes reach out to the oozing future, mucin covering the grains i pass over. They stick to the undersides of my body
yet still, i am grown in the womb of the past as my here and now is prepared. i am watched and cared for as i sleep, my hair is brushed from my face. outstretched arms compose my future, my everything, and i feel at home amongst a shrouded tapestry of soon.
i am not what happened before, yet i make up what i experience now. Oh, how the world lives by the past and present. if only we could pick one ?
brothers in union, Cold i lay
I think of roadkill. vinyl seats and accessories hung from a rear-view mirror. a carrion cluster stained with someones negligence, their sun and sin at my feet. i kneel beside it, a stench of rotting iron and cornstarch. something new, young, barely born (yet barely past?). eyes set in a cold appraisal of hoped-for wounds, i pray for its breathing to stop. it has been a trying day, im sure

5th of May 2024

write about or use asymmetry in your writing. what is the intrigue in imbalance? maybe work with different-sized stanzas or long, long sentences followed by short ones, or think about how no two bodies are the same, nor two halves of the same body, or how the feeling of a painting shifts with where the objects sit.

silver plumes trill within the heart of an ivory spoon,
how broad (?)
rings are rusted, sickly scores left at the base of fingers
blemishes erupted into bodies that do not fit them, the new world is a whole one
endlessly shifting feathers
mercy, porcelain, salt, pearls amongst honesty, and it hurts