let magick be a potential, a keepsake
let magick be tiny. let me find power in smallness, in non-giving, in a sense.
let me shrink to naivety so this will not come back to me.
let this be the part of me that feels good to let out
as it all gets muddied and confounded in secrecy-
sacred fire that gets sick of me denying its rights, so
spontaneously possessing me
until i release it
and wildfire is the world.
once it's banished, my bared feet understanding the earth
let me believe all fire justified
just for now; this being
the aspect with pistols and perfect tits, who i salute
when i wear all black- one could say
i'm a trick that's been turned.
that girl is the only friend that counts
and she lives in caves
and is in love with nihilism, if that makes sense,
resists persuasion, does not read, does not
get shy, admits fucking makes people look stupid, only eats dirt
has never spoken a word
has never looked at the stars.
is she crow? well, she looks human, to me. perhaps
humans will morph in the future
as humans have been morphed before.
i am under her wing
when i'm with her, you are intimidated by us both
raping your dreams
the ones you wake up blocking out, or interpreting
to exhaustive, or declaring
you've just experienced nightmare.
this is the girl
born of that boy
that boy who was the boy who taught her
though, missed out on me
and i was kind enough
to let him get away with his crimes, his forgetting me
raping my dreams, which we must have
to acknowledge fire.
i am just what you need; avoidance of the word
"dissociation", don't want them to think i fancy i know shit.
now things are getting harmonious
trying to let go of intrusive thought
for days, a new one- over not remembering a word
doing my best- but don't you wanna fail?
of course i do, but i can be mindful of it, so it's all good, plus i'm fat and ugly anyway.
talk to the punks
practically asking for it, "mohawks" up, please
walk up to me, i
expand my aura to invite you in. the virus
of missed opportunities
you know i'm letting this be your birthday
and i like your sister better than you. you do know that, right?
listen to your birthday song
and drift off
watch your birthday candles
let your breath
let the wish
it is your manifestation, your experience is.
law of attraction when you can't handle it
unless displacing it. when displacing, you can be okay
with the universe throwing anything you can handle at you.
let the oven
with nothing inside
let the birthday
let the imagine they abuse me very hardcore
let the magick prince
i can't help what you don't tell yourself
you will yourself to do, i'm only a boy
that drags a brick (whose name is daddy, the poem
to make a flag
from its bones)
and a ball and chain. i raped you
and everything happens for a reason.
stop cooking and accept yourself
a guesthouse for demons;
know your evil- nobody opens the fridge's door
except you. stop painting-
nobody cares unless you force them to. you don't
want to be alone in your caring, neither
does daddy, nor
let the food rot 'kuz that's what you know you really want deep inside anyway, to
is this the poem that will cure anger, magick spell
to release it, better off
expectations not be met, anyway-
is it one pansexual, asexual, polyamorous, or just
regular misguided? i am all of the above at eight years of age
with a bloodied nose
and a puppy i murdered
and perfect fucking grammar asshole
telling the literary establishment i know better than "they" do
in their realm-keeping. the people that i love most
are too good for paying attention to our relationships- natural selection
is instinctual, so no judgement, outside of catharsis.
i'll be reliable no matter what, so you can all neglect our relationships
to go on regarding me as you would a therapist
and insist it's because of all my therapists
who i guess speak through me.
i'm only a bully and only i don't know it but know it.
someone is gonna think i'm confused. it's one of those train wrecks you don't stop yourself from looking at, or
talking shit about afterward. nobody is gonna ask if i'm okay
and if they do
i won't feel touched like how i wanna.
i only spend all of my time pressuring myself to not pressure myself, and i have my father's love
and my molestor has the life i'd like to have
because it is not mine.
it climbed on top and never sought a withdrawal.
saying, "don't touch me," was not threatening. elegant of me to engage in passive resistance; i value my integrity.
clearly, i've never roamed the streets.