what is sacred anymore?

first class is
fake flowers and wine
old white people who
have to stick out their tongues
to get food in their mouths

what is sacred anymore?

white men in khakis
show their photos of kids
they helped in africa
for 2 weeks
why, for so today
they could sit here
in their zip-offs
and show me the way

starbucks at machu picchu
the holy water of americans
a complete bastardization
of all that was once
sacred

pan flutes and market stands
selling identical goods
walk by enough times
and you might just buy one
if you do not, what good
have you done?

lady lady
senioria, seniorita
massa, massa
white skin means money
and white skin has turned
beloved grounds into
functional enterprise

if it hadn’t been Spain, it would be the next
would it be me?
in a way,
yes.

Cameras snapping
but I can’t stomach
the removal of the lens cover
to capture the view
of white men in khakis

and all that is sacred.

good advice

an old one.
March 1, 2018.

“Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come again in this identical disguise.”
— Gwendolyn Brooks

I've since found people who can make it bearable, but more importantly, I've found some sort strength within that allows me to reach for them. 

Advice from him: don't write a song, write a feeling

Advice from her: we have our art, we are the lucky ones
Advice from him: don't make this into a competition
Advice from her: this is better, I promise this is better, even though it doesn't feel that way

First step, dial. Second step, pour.

"My brain feels like it's going to fucking explode.” (crying) "My brain feels like it's going to fucking explode." (inhale) "My brain" (crying) "feels like" (exhale) "it's going to" (crying) “explode." (inhale)

Third step: shower notice that you're breathing in out in out slow and deep under water like you once studied and that, yes, sometimes your own mind fucks you, but other times – it loves you.

You! Are breathing! Under! Water! Go!

Exhale.

Advice from her: Spring will come; with it, change
Advice from him: it could be bad, or it could be good, but it could be bad, but it could be good
Advice from her: don't chase your antidepressants with Guinness.

We're gonna get ghost tattoos this weekend, him and I, the stranger.

I made it to the show and saw someone else like me
And saw that my bedroom is a stage
And heard that other people feel the same
Felt safe in a crowded place tonight

How strange,
How strange,
How strange.

weekend talk

june.


we can talk about eating disorders
how my first boyfriend called me fat
and his ex before that
we can talk about how i never had bulimia because i wasn’t good enough at puking and i hated getting chunks in my nose but still tried anyways
how she only ate an apple today and so she was sick but i wasn’t sick
her scars were deeper,
more plentiful than mine
she had a therapist but not me
I wasn’t sick, sure, but she
was always better at everything than me.
we can talk about how to this day I am so proud to go a day without eating
b o o m

we can talk about how my parents send me things
because i’m far away
because i’m always far away
how I regularly dream
i’m dying of cancer
usually
how i feel like i haven’t experienced enough death
to ever comment on death
and yet I do because I want to somehow prove
that I am not afraid of it

how he touched me and I just let it happen, all of it, 
how I hated it, all of it,
how I tolerated it because, I guess, what was I to do, so far away,
in the world?
how then, I thought, complacency was best.
how now, I would hope,
I would roundhouse a motherfucker.

how WHITE LAWN CHAIRS
ARE MY LITERAL
BEST FRIENDS FOREVER
AND HOW I FEEL
(like a slut)
(like a whore)

Right now,
For the first time,
I don’t think I miss
anyone. 
Except for me, whoever I was,
before.

How I have always loved the month of June it reminds me of
oranges on a soccer field and matching sprinkle doughnuts for me and Jonathan From and planning with my mom how she always tried so hard to make my birthdays the best and how I think the extra daylight saved me,
just in time,
from going crazy.

anthony bourdain died and I saw
a lot
of myself
in him so
i was pretty
fucking
upset about it

how i still don’t know if i was upset about the dying kid or the arrest and how
I never cried about the body by the cliff cause it was
just a floating leaf but
I cried about being stuck on a mattress on a beautiful cliff by the sea because I was so so so so so sad about
nothing.

how the trees are so  green and
the sky is so blue and there’s always
a plane in the sky.

how avocados
are also known
as dragon pears
dragon cause of the skin
pears cause of the shape
but what,
      what,

is inside?