>>

>>>>

Dear Jane,

The worst feeling is when someone tells you how unbalanced you are, and you didn't even realize it, but it makes so much fucking sense now. Because it is you, it isn't everyone else, like you've always thought.

And why does this always come from people who know you the best? If I am to maintain my sanity, I am forced to conclude these people do not know me at all.

So the options are either: 1.) none of my relationships are real or 2.) I am a lunatic.

I would start therapy again, but who gives a shit, I don't even know where in the country I will be living in two weeks.


Love,

Lena.

>>>

my front porch stitched pano

resolutions.

>>>


keep looking, little heart, for the warmth you know exists. pursue other angles, forget the angels, who most certainly will bore you, after a bit.

keep your heart alone. open your legs, feel yourself with yourself. foreign hands neglect glands, forget what you tell them you like.

ignore vacant promises. watch as the world outside doubles and halves, respectively. the action is no surrender, for remember, you are alone.

fill your heart with more words. not other women's words, only those whose point of origin is identical to your mouth, and keep your mouth clean.

do not forget that you are a creature, and your blood signifies hope beyond doubt. your formulas will fail, but your blood always repeats.

maybe he ain't lyin. maybe you will keep striving to repair damaged ideals, or maybe you won't. touch your own self with the love you think you have for him. you will find it greater.

>>>>

wordless chorus

Dirty Dream no.2

I feel asleep in a familiar place for what was about to occur and perhaps that particular spot summoned an overlapping memory at any rate that's where the entire dream unfolded.

As early back as I can remember we embraced and I clumsily knocked something hard to obtain and costing you money into your lap; you effortlessly saved the prize and refilled the small capsule with what for some reason mattered to us.

Kissing you was desperation and I felt more eagerness from you which was strange because I always feel the more uncontrolled one; not used to feel like this anyway but I do now only with you.

Only you weren't you you were someone else who had came before. The arms which had just clung to your neck like tentacles released - no, pushed you away in disgust. I stared at you in horrible disbelief. Though you appeared identical inside I knew who you were.

You knew it too and smiled that smile I die when I see it I die. Now however now your insides taint that beautiful smile and you keep making very time-specific facial expressions each wonderful in a new and painful way. I want to suck them up for in my other life you are gone so much.

Mmmm skyscraper I love you - ringing in my ears (turned out to be the sizzling of a steak some bitch frying on the tele my god what a repulsive image to wake to my god). Strangled in a blanket (both instances) I fell off the couch.

I thought how to get you out of my house, my parents were upstairs. Hello they would tell you. But it's not really him it's him I'd say, as if this would explain why you weren't where I told them you were and neither were you especially not here.

Not gotten to the idea of hiding you near the furnace I actually woke. Oh god I thought oh god I am never taking a nap again because I dream so deep into my real thoughts, not like a runaway imagination but an imaginative run of real thoughts.

Really I told you though far (you're all far, all far from me) I don't compare I don't want anyone to get into my overlapping mastrubatory thoughts and late afternoon dreams one lunatic is enough one goddamned lunatic was enough and two was unlucky three a fucked up coincidence and four well four, well fuck you god I am starting to think it's me that's fucking you up, all of you.

two northamerican panoramas.

outside or inside: one feels him

wave. waves.


she or he. she or one. one or one. one or none.
.

Mandatory Spring Poem

the infinite springness regenerates for some
doubt, cycles despair and loneliness. A new
start to something old. Winter is an excuse
without sun and skin; spring they will ask
why you are sad again. why are you sad
again. Do the violets not move you nor the
dewdrops defuse the lead-heavy hours? Are
you lonely for someone - I miss the sadness
in everyone. I need to begin a chemical
routine, like a flower soaked in pesticide
on a beautiful spring day in Tennessee.