Tuesday, August 29, 2017

I hate the east coast but....

...I may have to move somewhere in which autumn resides.

my yearning ripened
like the last apple
russet and out of reach
but for the sun
touching it briefly
the ash lost its leaves first
and in your absence
autumn touched my heart
and I feared a winter without you
so many leaves underfoot
that the grass yellowed
two squirrels chased each other
in a rough scramble
up and down
the broad poplar
and two starlings dipped
into the dark water of the birdbath
twice I found bones at the bottom
brought by crows
I shivered in the chill
of that October morning

a fatal bite

I imagine a bullet would feel like a bite from a dragon; searing, sharp and quick.

My tumblr account is half dead, but the app still sends me notifications. It's such a dreamful realm, so much youth, full of raw confessions. The antithesis of 'adult.' I don't want to let that side die. I don't want to give in to expectations.

One of the most expensive cities in the world, San Francisco, withholds the luxury of air conditioning from it's residents. Luckily, SF summers peak at 75 degrees so we get by by sleeping with the windows open, shades drawn, and distant sirens singing us to sleep, forsaking our blankets and clothes. I feel exposed to the darkness. There is a childlike fear attached to the darkness that in the morning, feels absurd. But it's so real at night. I once immersed myself it in to try to find to root of the fear and I found it, rooted in memories I had suppressed–rooted in anger. My darkness is full of anger and heat.

writings before bed