You used to call me on my shell foam

Photo of the bus window this morning. It is blurry and there are some drip stains on the window. You can just make out a cloudy, blue sky and the sun coming up over a field.

Why so equid, babe?

Hats of nostalgia
leaning into it leaning against

the ground chewing
bark just to get the mouth wet
bittersweet a little a lot
like painful
joints the morning
to keep the jaw able
a little
like that measurement
we use a lot for love

Be the shutting the fuck up you want to hear in the world.

This is the perfect time of night to secretly promote your mixtape.

One morning my brother stepped out from a camper, stretched while proclaiming what a beautiful day it was when a seagull promptly shit on his head. I think about this a lot.

I'm more interested in the random acts of squirrels than in the deliberate actions of celebrities.

It's a simple kaleidoscope, no mirrors, no turning, no color. It helps if you believe in it but I don't and look at me, still making a receipt out of milk and food coloring

In another world we say "in this world" to refer to that world only because we don't need to imagine any others. Or maybe we don't even say world we just grunt out for big perfect circle like panoramaaagh

Always making the wrong silence when I wanna be quiet, does that ever happen to me? At least I'm nodding along again to a lo-fi inner monologue

If you always open a bag of chips upside down it's because a very naughty potato has cursed your entire snackline. But I'm seriously, do not be too disappotatoed in yourself

That sort of repartee is no longer part of my repertoire.

All weary and full of goo.

The breath that binds us to the earth.

The meaning of life— like that’s going to help.

The little bad of yesterday

Metronome of unloneliness

The hope of transient deposit

A jumping shot of emotions

Fine tuning myself
Softening what needs gentleness
Sharpening what asks for clarity
Learning when to hold on
When to let go
And how to exist honestly
In the in-between

An evaporating awareness

The elaborate fandango

An unhinged thought with alarming clarity

A precautionary unresponsiveness

I think I must have breathed wrong in my sleep last night because today my neck has been all sorts of incorrect.

1:11 check your credit score

I wanna know what that short free fall in the atmosphere *before* the parachutes kicked on felt like.

The wind sure loves a relative direction.

The mundane arcane.