 5/3 [revised]
By our 4th conversation, I thought you were the biggest cunt of a woman I had ever met. And I told everyone. I chain smoked cigarettes in a haze watching performance art in Bushwick. Like a film noir in Paris. It was artsy as hell. I sent you a picture of a white lighter and a man covered in flowers under a sheet. A man from D.C. Because that’s how I felt. You asked, “what the fuck was that?” frustration.
when i think of leaving, forget me. when i leave myself, because nothing’s really all that bad. forget me when i lose my peace. forget me. forget me when i become too much. forget when i can’t help myself. forget, forget my advances forget my idealization of you it’s just escape from being alone like this forget. forget me. and maybe, it will disappear. tonight.
i have never been so tonight i give to the shaddows move unique think of them again. again… again’til all the me thoughts: arrangement
i can’t tell if i’m actually put off by doing this or if i’m just confused because all of my surroundings tell me i should feel put off by it. i like the connection. in some ways i like how casual it is, in some ways i don’t. he wants me to love him. i can tell he’s idealizing the situation like i like him. like we’re dating. like i’m his sometimes girlfriend with a bit of formalities. but i’m not some girl he’s seeing. i can’t be what he wants me to be for him. i don’t think he wants to acknowledge that. it’s ideal though. we can drink wine and argue about how much of a shithead bloomberg is for getting rid of the buskers and performance artists and both get just as pissed off. i love his humanity and the intimacy it’s brought out of both of us but something’s off. sometimes it feels like incest. sometimes i resent him. sometimes i resent all men, when i shouldn’t. i feel empowered and put down at the same time. it’s confusing. the least he could do is remember my name. 5/3
By our 4th conversation, I thought you were the biggest cunt of a woman I had ever met. And I told everyone. Last night I chained smoked cigarettes while watching performance art in bushwick and felt like ‘the dreamers’. Have you ever seen that movie? It’s about 1960s film buffs in paris. It was artsy as hell. I sent you a picture of a white lighter and a flowered man under a sheet because that’s what I was feeling. White lighter riff forever. I dreamt I told you last night in a dream. you asked “what the fuck is that?” Ariel. (Imaginary Friends Part 2)
Because of your daddy issues. you are: around men, a little girl. with other girls, entitled at first glance, pale skinny girl who looks like she likes drugs - We were best friends once. Imaginary friends. the guilt say you remember kicking off like we could fly. our native tongue when we woke up my eyes enflamed i set your hair on fire - Because he never told you. I stare telepathically across the room you wonder “what she’s looking at.” i’ve forgotten how. - YOU WERE MY FAVOURITE - written by third grade hands. in third grade hundred word margins on third grade notes, passed my third grade hands to yours you were my favourite. other words you never heard him say. Caroline.
you give me a fucking heart attack every time i fucking see you it’s never on my terms. - i’m all jittery from walking and cigarette withdrawls i’m such an awkward fuck. a special brand of social anxiety. just a thought
I love my lover like a mother Like hunger Like having to pee I love her like anger and 12 year olds. and asses on the street like caring In class I think of you and love him like poetry like lofty thoughts miles away
last night
the you in me,
asked to be taken
in a dream.
/
i went to sleep
with digits, delving, deep
and chasing where
they “should not go.”
/
awake awake
could not remember
longing,
seeing you in sleep
until i bled
hot gossamer’s sting
you’d lingered naked,
summer peace.
 Anonymous: You've met me. You know me.i figured. i’d never seen your writing before though. have i seen you in the past week? did i meet you in new york? i like the idea of speaking anonymously. i want you to text or email me or something. private but still anonymous. Anonymous: I know, i said."You don't."You caught me in a lie. The birds were echoing off the concrete like feathered flakes of snow.I opened my eyes.i want to know you. i want to meet you and i to make the music that tells your stories. you should talk to me minus the anonymity. or email if you prefer not to tell niathecreator@gmail.com a bit intense, i know. i really like your stuff. |
