Showing posts with label experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label experience. Show all posts

Friday, 19 May 2023

nails

i am taken
flecked with silver and shimmering
hands clasped around your neck
wearing the forever coat of nails
you made me

i wanna kill the ones who made the internet
sometimes. for drawing me away from you 
to careless icy screens

 
#katyamills


Wednesday, 24 January 2018

destined

I was destined for this. I don't call it greatness, this sliding along on a conveyor belt of life. I have a bad habit of wishing to make sense of my experience.

Wednesday, 13 January 2016

Ame & the Tangy Energetic

(a genuine teaser)
I could soak right through her skin, caught in the grip of the city, and live there if she let me, protected and she did, my sister,  going over her lung capacity inhaling, then giving me her lips and taking in the deep river of air. Segue from there. And I began to cry when I first saw through her eyes, okay, the place had been blasted apart and made a clearing, my pupils were pinning and dilating, pulsing as I really got into her, how uncommon the  hopeful pain, starvation and loss for so long, god, Kell, where didya come from? She was right here, beside me, her breasts pressed up against my ribs, our bellies greeting through our clothes, what  hips we had trying to push around, and she started to catch the tears on a fingerprint, getting closer, cupping a hand to my face and though she let me inside, she was not aware how deep I was gonna go, her fingertips she took to her lips and already salt. I would make her thirsty, all feeling her dying and coming back to life and knowing now the interior of addiction and then come clean. I took a simple breath just beyond my lung capacity, made dangerous, then kissed her a hit of my inner madness, and came back to myself with a gasping kind of whistle. She covered her mouth and laughed. There’s a comedian in all of us. I had to crouch down to the floor so blown away by the difference in her and me, and really the influence she had on me, I mean her life, as it came to me in flashbacks, and she crouched down beside me wondering was I gonna be okay. Hiding the smile I gave her, of me. I fell on my knees on the floor and threw my arms around her. God, you are so goddam wonderful. How can you be so wonderful? Looking into the green and wondering reflective pools of her eyes. Like you saw the swamp and survived and it made ya an emerald by its burn, ya, butterflies flew you up and outta that sewer. Catfish gasping for air and feeling for the bottom.  Goddam. A million particles of mulch. The rays of the sun as though caught under ice, bounce around until smothered by the anaerobic. The fish that thrive are all muscle and gray as a country mare. So rubbery they could make for playground balls if you stitched up their mouths. Slippery when dry. All you need to know. Not many survived the swamp, but she did. My Kell. Don’t cross her. I will fuck you up. We cut our teeth on the horns of bulls. Such is why she can go emo and the world will go with her, rainclouds forming and air churning, and a foggy sadness making clarity in your head. 

Tuesday, 11 August 2015

blame it on the remodel

The edamame was sea-salted and I ate one after another after another while we talked, pulling the soybeans out by my teeth (sea salt took edamame to a whole new level like Greek took yogurt), and the waiter came back to apologize again for the remodeling of the place, which had us bewildered (the waiter not the place) until finally someone asked so we could discover he was referring to the facade of the building and the scaffolding -- OHHHHH! sung the choir, and the waiter leaned out after the secret had been shared, and the linked chains around his neck (which looked like old-school bike locks) clanged, and a hairstyle worthy of Andre the Giant back in his perm days tried to stand up but fell greasy upon his face and recoiled. This was the first and last time I would ever eat here. I don't know why because the mixed tempura was great, fresh and light fry batter. Maybe good food isn't enough anymore. Maybe I need a waiter who doesn't look like a wrestler from Queens. I think I will blame it on the remodel. The soybeans sliding down my esophagus think so. And probably all of Japan.