subconscious nest

life just keeps kicking me in the face

dirty cat litter + nag champa  smells like sandalwood.

randomonedirectionfacts:

DONT CHA WISH YOUR BOYFRIEND WAS HOT LIKE ME

DONT CHA WISH YOUR BOYFRIEND WAS A FREAK LIKE ME

DONT CHA

people say you can’t die in your dreams
but they also say ignorance is bliss
so how the fuck would they know?

last night I died.
I dreamt I was lost
driving down
he interstate which ended
and then I was in a neighborhood full
of people who all looked so angry to see me

I sat on an overturned bucket and looked for someone
who’d walk up and smile
and tell me everything
will be ok

but instead I saw a shadow

the man who was behind me
pulled out a gun
and I didn’t hear a sound except for the wind
and I was still sitting on the bucket
but my head was thrown back

I was looking up at the sky
and I felt the heat on my neck
that spilled out and down to cool on my chest
heat that filled my nose and throat
but it was a gentle slow choke
I was looking at the sky

I didn’t see the faces
of my loved ones
or my life flashing
or anything like that
just the gray clouds

and I whispered
to myself
to everyone
to no one
I love you.

He must not remember
the ghost hunger
that curdled his vision
for himself and of the world

that broken god
her hot breath over him
that rewrote his heartbeat

that instant of reckoning
(and those that followed)
that ripped some small vital part

that violent laughter
he fell in love with
that absence of breathing 

He must not remember
the taste of her lips
that made him try 
to kiss the ocean instead 

those with cold hands cuddle cats

and alliterate all

too much

and pull sweater sleeves

up to cover

fingers then realize

now it’s too long

and find beauty in

the bluish light

contrasts on knuckles, reveals

crackling lines

I know that wasn’t poetic.

It can’t all be so very poetic.

Unfinished lists aren’t so

Same goes for bellybutton lint.

but must we

cold finger typers

continue to stretch our cardigans

and push on our warm plastic pens

and worry about our assonance, our

enjambments,

about adding bold or underline

                                            to     

                                                             our                                      form?

Ann Dew hut a bow tall the mat gaps?

Are though snot poe a tree’s well?

(I bet you can’t figure out that one)

It doesn’t always make sense

but that’s with most things

like writing an ending.