imagine this on the back of a bank receipt, shaky and bus written:
where durable
hearts are surrounded by
deep moats– and where the busses still
kneel for the old folks– I’m building a city
of clichés tonight. a beaming castle at
its center. completely vulnerable and
completely tender. like being asked to heal for
someone else,
it’s not fair, to be combing
forgetmenots into your hair like that.
in other news it’s easy to make
beautiful things lately. all it takes is
two eyes, two ears, one tongue,
and a
sharp
hot
bleeding.
all my things are packed. I’m running away at midnight. I’ll never have writer’s block again. so long, miseries. so long, ground.
please don’t worry, mom. everything will be okay when the clock strikes midnight.
i may or may not have burst into tears