Diary

(1/25/25) you are in the crowd with a young-looking girl. well, i dont see your face. i see your jacket, i look at your hands, i think about how i could pick you out from a lineup just by your hands alone. i watch those hands around her waist, touching her stomach, trying out inside her waistband while the band plays. her stomach looks flat, perfectly so, how does it feel beneath your fingers? How does she feel between them, i wonder, pearlescent and velvety, when you raise those thin fingers of yours to your mouth, how does she taste? more than i want you, i long to be you, carefree and beautiful, perfect hands resting around a perfect waist, i long to be perfect, just like you. more than i want you, i want her, i want to be perfect like you, tasting her, feeling her beneath my fingertips.this is no longer about you and i, nothing more than a flash in the pan, back when you were young like me but now i’m still young and you are far too old for this. i am too old, too, too old for the way that i pray to consume you, baby, baby, baby… i want to hold close to the rock faces inside you, heart to beating heart with my arms a-stretched, digging my calloused hands into the cracks until you open up and swallow me whole.i can see it so well, the walls of your bedroom around her, holding her just the same as me, but shining a light on someone more beautiful, more angelic, curly hair and perfectly parted lips, hollow ribcage alive with purpose, i imagine her because i cannot imagine me, when i see you and i see her and i see myself there is part of the picture missing. my face, my body, my name, i don’t dare think of you saying it again, i picture you disgusted though i know it isn’t true. anything you can do, i can do better, except when i don’t, i can’t, i’m not, you are in the crowd with a young-looking girl and you will be taking her home.

(8/27/24) in her kitchen, there are peaches in a china bowl/ white and pink, juicy and tender/ she takes thick cuts of bacon and fries them/ in the cast iron pan/ and pancakes/ buttery and rich and crisped in the fat/ her hands press down the shaggy dough/ earl grey scones and strawberry, too/ in her kitchen, there are greenish towels/ clay pots of soil/ planted garlic bulbs with nowhere to sprout/ blue glass bottles/ in her kitchen i know the ways to love her well/ i am patient and devout/ she scrapes out the vanilla/ i speak gently and quietly/ my hands hardened,/ my touch no longer heavy/ i shoulder the prudence, a lifetime left/ i return to dirt with tempered pragmatism/ and give with my belt still buckled/ i arch down/ nature made bridges and bends/ i stretch and bend for her/ with ease and/ she beats egg whites and squints out the sun/ in her kitchen i am no longer the way that i was/ i am no longer the way that i was/ i am no longer the way that i was/ i am in her kitchen and i am no longer the way/ that i was.

(1/13/24) My girl doesn’t care my girl listens to the breeders my girl thinks it’s okay that I look like this my girl doesn’t care my girl my girl my girl I’m hers and she’s mine she loves me she loves me she wants to tear me limb from limb no not like that not in that way my girl wears socks with her sandals my girl eats the toast with strawberry jam my girl says don’t worry it’s okay my girl my girl my girl she holds my hair back when I throw up my girl only drinks gin and tonics and my girl kisses me at red lights and also sometimes at green and yellow lights when she can’t get enough my girl tells me she always knew my girl says you know you just know you don’t have to worry about it you just know except for when you don’t sometimes you don’t sometimes my girl is not my girl she was but she isn’t now I was but I’m not now my girl my girl my girl she loves me she loves me not my girl dances without me my girl worries about if she’ll run into me my girl hopes not my girl writes in her journal about how glad she is I’m gone my girl lives for the thrill of the chase and I’m not the one running my girl hates me she hates me so badly my girl can’t do it anymore my girl pays her roommates parking tickets my girl wishes me dead my girl my girl my girl I love her she loves me I love her too she loves me not my girl my girl my girl