July 26, 2020

Here it is. The writer you were asking for.

But that’s the thing, when I open the notes on my IPhone and ignore the world around me to get every syllable on paper, the sounds are like knives cutting into my heart and my soul and all I can do is bleed on this goddamn paper.

And when you ask me to go there you’re asking me to go to a dark cave where I never know if I’ll find my way out.

It means something has ripped my heart to shreds. Again.

This is vulnerable land, or maybe the land of the brave, where we aren’t afraid to wear our emotions on a page.

Slap me down, throw me away, make me go away. Get lost in the thought. Get carried away.

Steve, I wish I had had this for your class.

July 25,2020

You know what they say about patience

….

No, tell me Expert On All The Human Species because somewhere along the way it was only you who experienced happiness and pain, and have come to know all the answers.

Or maybe I’m just a female who has been existing in a lifeless bubble and yeah, if you had married someone too—you’d want her to stay home and raise the kids while you worked and progressed your career.

It’s so lovely that she can look in the mirror and continually see the tear-streaked painted cheeks of a clown.

Mental mother-fucking breakdown.

Mental break, breaking, broken cardiovascular system—and it feels like I’m not vasculing that much longer. You sucked out all that air.

Here’s my chorus for those who I’ve claimed to love:

Oh, please tell me again how wrong I am.

Or that I am over-the-top,

Or—all you have to do is just clock in.

Dear wonderful men with your beautiful, mandating, overrated cocks:

HEAR this for once—

Go fuck yourselves.

7/25/2020

Remember those twinkling lights spread across the L.A. night sky?

We could try to look at the planets—everybody is always looking out at a space we will never fully understand.

And now we look at our backyard. Or that 2 feet space between the stairs.

Where did you go? You said you were there, but “ there” is not a space we float in and out from, room to room, avoiding a look, a stare, the same chit chat about this or that. How is it exactly that you care?

You do? Then who I am? What’s your answer? Say you support me, just not beside me, or with me, maybe in another sphere?

If only it was as easy as me staying in my lane.

Then your idea of love could remain and not catch the sky on fire looking for the planets we’ve somehow misplaced in our lonely hearts.