i remember when i used to travel alone,
i packed too much
and i always stared.

everybody looked so sad.

me too.

i look mean, so nobody approaches me.
i don't really want people approaching me

i'd feel like i owed them something.

i had a dream last night,
i told him i dreamt that i was at his funeral
so he wouldn't get angry.

he always gets so angry.

you were home, this home
not that one you have now.
there we were

in front of the fireplace.

i woke up and remembered everything
it felt cheap

so i fucked him
and then i forgot.

it felt great.

skeleton me

it feels like i've been naked for days.
naked with him
while you're naked with her.

i waited for it to be this way
& i'm not sorry that it is.
i tried to disassociate.

she looks thinner
thinner than me
but i don't care

neither will matter as much
as the lost ones do.

strange steps take us back

how anxious, anxious worry, after all this time; like no time's passed at all. i looked down into the grate between my feet, i saw the 6 flying underneath me, like i could have slid into it, flat on top, howling through the underground of our city. what would have been our city, what's now so full of ash that we sweat soot. i got my fortune told when i was 11, i was in copenhagen, she read my palm. she told me i would travel around the world. she wasn't wrong. but i think i traveled to all the wrong places, i fell in love with all the wrong cities, and all the wrong languages. you weren't wrong. that's a shame. it would be easier if you were wrong.

you know when you're sitting in class, you're not in college yet, you're at that awkward age where it matters when you're wrong, you've got about 6 more years 'til you stop giving a shit, and your teacher asks one of those open-ended questions. those "challenging" questions, the ones that are supposed to be "objective". so you raise your hand to answer, you tell her what you think it means, she tells you that you're wrong. you're not brave enough yet to fight her, so you slink back down into your desk, and there's 23 eyes on you, just looking at you. you can't read their faces, you hope for the worst. that's what it feels like every day with you. i feel like a humiliated pre-pubescent girl, you're the classmates and you're the teacher all in one cruel package, you're just constantly humiliating me and im just standing there, silently taking it, like i'm naked in a crowd of people, and they're all circling my flaws. like those sororities-gone-wrong stories you read about in Teen Vogue. you're so careful to build sentences that set me up for failure. picking up each word with tweezers, making this painting that's full of shame, and it reads like my body.

it impressed me. you're not from here, and i'm better at this language than you are, but you can still bring me down. i guess that comes with the ex-lover territory. i guess you're always gonna have that over me, you'll hold it over my head, cause i deserve it.

...où pas...

Je ne peux pas vous regarder de toute autre manière

Je suis désolé, je ne peux pas vous regarder comme ça. Je ne peux pas vous voyez que ce que vous pensez que vous êtes aujourd'hui. Ce n'est pas facile. Je ne suis pas facile. C'est dur, ça ne va pas cesser d'être dur. les feuilles vont continuer à tomber, et je ne vais pas arrêter d'essayer. i tu es quelque chose ne peut pas ignorer. n'est-ce pas dégoûtant? Je me dégoûte. Je suis désolé si mes paroles sont brisés. J'essaie, ne peut pas vous le dire? J'imagine que non. vous faites ce plus difficile qu'il a à être. vous faites ce plus difficile qu'elle ne devrait l'être. votre balançoires, d'avant en arrière, de gauche à droite. Je suis malade d'entre eux. arrêter de changer vos pensées. Je vais bientôt partir. Je ne vais pas revenir. C'est probablement ce que vous voulez. Je suis très bien avec cela. Je ne vais pas essayer d'être triste, et je crois que je vais réussir. Je serai la moitié de moi-même, il n'y a rien de mal à cela. mais il faut arrêter de jouer avec moi. ma peau est chair, et non en plastique. mes cheveux sont réels, mon cerveau fonctionne, j'ai du sang. Je ne suis pas une poupée. arrêter. qui a été le premier mot que vous m'avez enseigné. "Arrêter" à côté, vous m'avez appris à dire "un oiseau". qui était mon mot préféré. mais je peux me enseigner. Alors, Arrêter, parce que je suis un oiseau. j'ai des ailes. pas vous?

we are the ever-living ghost of what once was

i heard about those girls that live like shells of themselves, they move their hollow hearts like hermit crabs, a new casing means a new beginning to an end, and in their season, everything cracks and you fall through the surface of all that sorrow. when you kiss her, it feels like the static in her lips could drain your blood, it feels like she couldn't hate you any more than she does now. when she speaks her tongue splits in two, and she's got two things to say, but she chokes on the decision of what to chose. she gives up in the end cause it hurts to hard to wait.


i get that, yeah, i get that.

heaven restores you in life

i'm heavy-headed, like a paper fish boiling in 1600 tons of concrete. the swell of our pus-filled lungs are all i have left, and you're drunk: it's 4am, guess where i am?

it's been months since you've been the object of my hands, i don't like how this feels. i don't like writing about you. but here i am, black ripped tights, deja vu, heavy eyes, thin lips. when you met me, i still wore glasses. and when you fell in love with me, i had smashed them in half. and by the time i had left you, i was blind. i never got them replaced. i'm still blind.

all these things i can't forget; the way you write the number one, and 9 pm, i could have filled the plane with my tears and drowned the man beside me, but i didn't because i was too embarrassed to show the world how much i loved you in such close quarters. and every song i played reminded me of the way we had to walk away, if you followed me the police would have taken you, and if i turned and ran back nothing except the practical would have happened. i should have run. instead, i ran too late and in the wrong direction. and every mistake brings me further from the truth. moi non plus.

the way your nose used to fill with black drove me insane, and i was always at it like a tongue to a sore tooth, but i would give my house to get it back. don't forget what i forgot to tell you, please. i'm still worried, i'm still a burden, i'm still confused, i don't think i'll ever stop crumbling in your hands. i wasn't looking for you, but i found you, isn't that how it always works? it's easy to love you now, i promise. at the very same rate, i don't expect you to believe that after all i have done. are you still lonely? me too, but my hands are still red. je pense a toi...