the backs of my eyes

i can’t write poems like i wrote in january
and i can’t count cards like i counted in october
can’t take shots like i took in august
and i can’t trace stencils like i traced in april

weather turned to weather
snow to rain
water on water on water

i was not ready
i was not collected
a map unnoticed
i was a map unnoticed
frenzy dissipated
(like i fucking predicted)
ten clicks, glazed eyes
a brand with plans i refused to recognize
i burned another calendar
and the results weren’t so clear, after all

space was suffocating me
as level as scripted conversation
i backed out on my star contract
i reneged that meteor deal
black holes kept calling...i didn’t pick up

breathing became my boyfriend
i was queen of affection
i was queen of attention
i was queen, oh i was queen
femininity was mine for the taking
so fuck all you suckaaaaaaaas

i started smashing
all those orbs i saw
i started clashing
shoes to pants to shirt to hat

the splattered crossover caught my eye
but i was faithful
the deadline spent it’s inheritance
but i was frugal
the tools rusted, rust on rust
but i was flawless
the clouds created a prison
but i was free

i kept raising the stakes
but i wasn’t in love
no, really, i wasn’t in love

i stopped investigating the sky
but breakups are never easy
they started charging me for change
but, like, it’s not really my fault
that I’m as young as I am
and that everyone’s an asshole

i knew all about magic
cuz i believed in magic
i knew all about style
cuz i believed in style
i knew all about words
cuz i believed in words

what i knew and what i believed
started fucking, couldn’t stay friends
oh it was all messed up

freedom for freezing
(my words were becoming something else)
practiced participation, parallel precipitation
nights on nights on nights

flurry of the laces as means to hang the globe
flavored lightly, seasoned lightly
disoriented ricocheted oblivion
the weight was hard to judge

i couldn’t be what they thought i was
i couldn’t get taken seriously these days if i tried
plans became numbers
became puddles
became debris

it wreaked of unknown territory, of creativity shouted
collided waiting for a chance to go really go really go for it
not force fed, not persuaded
a nocturne paralysis for the sake of something forgotten

i gathered dismissal slips
i found the shredder
i found the shredder
i found the shredder

i thought there’d be more words
by the time i grew up
thought light would be liquid
thought money’d be morbid
thought people would be free

i write poems so i can become them
not like a weirdo
more like a transcendentalist

sometimes i become convinced my leg muscles
are too long for my legs
sometimes i become convinced
of a lot of things

i was rather misconstrued about how i would feel in the world on my own
but i’m not mad
i used to think it’d make me mad
and i’m not even sad
i thought for a while, i’d get real sad
but, i guess,
when i’m all of it
and when i’m none of it
when i’m a midwest winter
when i’m a brooklyn ice cream truck
when i’m roots, trunks, branches
when i’m leaves only leaves
if if then then
i’ll get less scared
and i’ll see it all decorated

in the way i imagined