indelible's poetry

Desperate attempts at Cementing the evergreen rainforest

I rip the staples out of my forearm, 
with the aggressive energy of a hungry and callous vampire,
a narcissistic power-hungry vampire, 
taking its first bite,
—pinning her down and entering her arched neck,
with sloppy lust and gluttonous over-slurp.

The staples shine in my hand and I feel 
the hazy embrace of endorphins I confuse for him. 
My eyes are squinted tight, my legs wobble and I recall cafes, 
off the L,
cafes off the G, 
cafes off the 4,5,6;
I recall his lap, his shoulder, 
his guts, swirling with caffeine.

My forearm is splurting rouge onto my cheek. 
Intrigued, my tongue curves towards 
and licks off the salty evidence 
of what’s under my skin.

childish

As the past tense becomes deeper the stench becomes wiser,
there is a movement, a realization
of the moving, breathing, fucking, thinking, selfishly naïve, childish—you are a child,
daunting pile of sewage, moldy cardboard, seeping batteries, dented motherboards,
opaque plastic bags, rotten milk, sizzling waste that is behind me.
I take a stomp forward, I hold hands with the wise and gifted,
but am cursed, my head twists backwards, snaps my neck, and I become putrid too.
I know you are too preoccupied to recall, to you they are translucent experiences,
neatly outlined by your own disinterested wording,
but to me it is an ambiguous shape that’s beating rouge into my pupils.
I can’t deny, how at first it made things clear,
but now it swirls muck and confusion in and out of the past tense.
We are children at recess, casually shoving faces in thick mud.

A Love Poem; an attempt at optimism

leaning
lines
loosely
leap, leave, long
out.

overtly 
occurring.
occupying
others. 
ostracisizing
viciousness.

validation;
violas & vegetables. 
vegan
violence. 
vibrant 
vineyard; 
evergreen.

essentially 
an epiphany. 
each
euphoric 
exchange
excites 
love.

honeydewed center evergreen stemmed

i am curled up like a question mark around your pair of feet on the tile floor; 

one ear is pressed down listening to floor eight’s myriad of awkward folk songs. 

and then when you scratch my neck i become like greenery. 

warmth similar to spring sun, starts to swirl into my pores

and when i blossom, noises come out of my mouth and puddle around the floor. 

my eyes squint tight, what’s happening.

positions shift and hands slip down, curving around the indentions of my spine,

my mouth widens and the puddle expands; 

something is inside me now.

my skin flushed in an evergreen hue, my eyes wrinkled messes. 

roots erupt out of my palms, they climb up and tie my wrist to yours. 

one ear is pressed down listening to floor nine’s infiltration of humming birds.

Volcanic

Volcanic.
Sporadic eruptions, ashes in your eyes.
The heat is seductive, it licks your flesh, it drags you in.
Volcanic.

From the inside,
an Armageddon,
but in fact it is
just another tragedy,
just another passing day.

You grab your limericks,
your quotes and rhymes,
your inspirational speeches and lullabies,
you cling on them as you are swallowed by Pompeii.

Bent over, clutching your chest,
frozen for the rest of time.
Evidence of your Armageddon,
but for everyone else it is just another passing day.

Volcanic.
Spurting out warm colors, welcoming colors.
Confident and bold colors.
Like it is the first eruption. The first murder. The first pollution

“Hi, I’m Volcano and I burn scars into the Earth. I destroy the existence of exotic species. I burn down forests and slay millions of living things.”
“Hi Volcano”

Like your recovery matters, like there aren’t other entities doing the same thing.

Like judgment day only happens once.

IT CAN BE THEN

drooping eyes, body
follows
black—
darkness—
warmth—

sepia projections:
fingers twirling nipples, soft
kisses

crrk, crakk,
projector broke.

the images fade
like a ghost boiling into sunlight,
but the emotions still shine.

ORANGE YOU GLAD

leaning, on an orange tree;
above me is crimson, a solar system. i push on the bark. 
the vibrancy of the orbs surround me in a meteor shower. 

they remind of your eccentricity.

i bite into the curious juice, my swirling citric saliva captivates me.
i have never been this satisfied.

SELF-PORTRAIT AS AN ECHOCARDIAGRAM

i been naked alone for so long-
i forgot what company was like. 

that’s inappropriate.

i touch my new appendages, 
that are touching
a machine,
that is touching an outlet. 

i wonder if 
this electrical tag connects to his
face.

i listen to the machine’s dialogue,
it says my beating is fine.

she doesnt even know

my role model created a barrier,
my bubble constricts,
transparent as her speech,
i needed to get out. 

my bubble constricts,
suffocation. 
i needed to get out,
but where to go?

suffocation,
air tight love.
but where to go?
ziploc-ed freedom in the fridge.

air tight love—
but i haven’t seen it yet.
ziploc-ed freedom in the fridge—
next to the 2% and the cream cheese. 

but i haven’t seen it yet,
my eyesight was like a post-nap haze.
next to the 2% and cream cheese
was someone’s Americana. 

my eyesight was like a post-nap haze
transparent, her speech 
was someone’s Americana.
my role model created a barrier.

ODE TO ASYLUMS

this fragile air
isn’t enough. 
this is known,
which is why you need to exist,
to reinstall hope
into those who are covered
in ripped bandages. 

mummies in second-hand,
arms out,
moaning,
the truth is this fragile air
is the perfect set for
monster movies. 

so thank you, for saving
my bleeding friend,
my brave rigger.
thank you for keeping
her ferocious while she
breathes this fragile air.