Freewriting

[30 May 2025]

Do you sleep well? Do you dream of endless summer and the white lake you used to swim in on hot summer days when you were too afraid of living to go home and be a person with a stomach and a face like your fathers. Now you walk like a man but your back hurts and every step is so heavy you drag your feet but you walk and you keep walking. Where do you hope to go? Have you ever found out? Do you think you ever will or is the heavy heartbeat of your stride all you know? I wish you well. Travel safe and think of me when you go but try not to miss me too much. After all, you were the one who left me behind.

[06 May 2025]

home = the beginning and end of the world. the center of the invisible map of arteries and veins. the place where you die, the place wehere you are reborn every night, every lifetime. can home be a place you can never return to? my home no longer belongs to me nor i to it. there is no one left there to remember me. what was once home can never be so again. i am too big, too changed to return. who will wait for me at the door now when i have become a stranger? i can never return. it will kill me. there is no way to go back. i will die attempting to become someone i have not been in a very long time; ripping off parts of my new being, my new flesh.

[05 May 2025]

Skin whispers, static hum of bronze heat shimmers in dancing light, golden and brimming with life. Heavy fruit soaks the satin earth. Exsanguination of soft juice. Sweet incense, grotesque in its weight, grasps the tongue.

[03 May 2025]

You wear your pride - blood red. Never let them see you bleed, feed you to the dogs. White teeth ripping into black flesh. Practiced viciousness. Wild. They call you savage. With their bruised fists and red faces. Heavy breath that stings hot. Sing. Let them hear you.

[28 Apr 2025]

Drive wicked. Make harsh noise, violent, tempered. Fragile flicker. Wet dream. Wet hope. Bigger. Bigger than this. Swallowed into easy stomach. Aches, with little space for dry air and flat tires. Empty bile. Glory without hope/want/fear; of falling, flying, imagined good days or blinding spaces between teeth that ache.

[23 Apr 2025]

compromise is a word i hate; only pushing harder, slamming up against the walls of what i want, only making myself hurt, only making both of us bruise and ache. im sorry i cannot be someone gentle and soft-willed. only my stubborn self. i want to be easy. i want to be kind for you.

[21 Apr 2025]

my hands reach out without fear: brown branches holding up the sun-heavy sky caressing the swinging shapes of clouds. i stuff my pockets full of stolen desires, dreams that harmonize with mine making wanting melodies that echo across the open sea, carried by the same breeze that brings the birds home in summer.