The girl at the screen

There is a girl inside me

in my stomach

she is me.

She sits and stares at a screen

an old dusty comp from the nineties.

It has a black backdrop

and weird yellow writing.

I hide around the corner

in a small pink hallway

trying to get a peek

of that screen.

She does not look at me

only the screen.

I want to know what is on that screen!

It holds everything about me

I need to succeed

but my body is a place foreign to me

and poking around the corner,

this me is not ready.

The girl at screen is dignified

people probably take her seriously

(when not staring at a screen).

I imagine her to be one of those people we all see:

walking around tall drinking coffee.

walking about town

on their way somewhere

somewhere going

they always know where they are going

and what they are doing is important

important and dignified and caffeinated

more important

than what everyone else is doing.

They don't care to stare

at the shoes

of strangers

on a bus

they are very busy

time is very valuable

and they love coffee.


Paintbrush plump with watercolor

smudged ink on a wet piece of paper

from a fingertip.


Gravity has made this possible

to bleed

to drip

to run

to soak

to fall.

It has formed an irregular

impressionistic pond.

To one side

it is more violent.

The rest is rimmed with ease. A ring of


looking on the inside

a nauseating color.

it gets grainy and pixelated

diseased looking.

The middle (as big as halves of two fingers)

flesh tinged yellow.

It tries to be flesh but it is not

this yellow means


Untitled april 25th

half deep into my smoking habit

I began to braid

it lasts loose-tight.

youthy at first

cracked locks









long ago.

I thought I was good with


alternate universe's


secured locks safe

(ex-roommate seeing me in a black and white picture of a mid woman some-park in Paris)

coiled fur were to unfurl

wind widdle one

now brokenshaped

more obsessed than before

makes nonsense

scared flurry alone talking exposed

where to go

for at least a couple hours

to settle

into exuberance

heavy fray

up and down

loose to tight

murky murky sea of drenched clenched

every pulley

taps me into instructions

on how to: disappear