meowmeowmeow9

[meowmeowmeow9]

i shut my eyes

a quagmire of ugly rancor

blooming into clear waters

laughing in blissful oblivion,

the sun sings in flowers,

and my heart grows wings

soaring over the bog

i can see the bottom now

in good time, we’ll be in the shallow

you and me and tomorrow

[meowmeowmeow9]

you’re my bedtime thought

when i lay my head down and get warm

you’re the dream i hope to have

when i say, “goodnight,”

i really mean, “i’ll see you there”

so stick around, a little longer

and i’ll be sure to hold on tight

for when morning comes, away goes you

and again i wait to dream

[meowmeowmeow9]

now that it’s saturday

the wind’s blown the tall grass flat

combed over itself like child’s hair

like a certain feeling

there’s people here, ass in the dirt

some in circles and some alone

and i’m gonna find you and sit by your side

you’re anxious, looking at your jeans

you pick at the grass and pull up green

i’ll pull it up too, so we have it in common

brown eyes, i want to be with you

[meowmeowmeow9]

there is no closet.

i am a secret that wanders

and i’ll show you what i am

so long as you catch me

be gentle with my bones,

they call me a fragile creature

but i’d lose a limb or two

if you asked

[meowmeowmeow9]

what am i going to tell the dream monster when i must face him, after tonight? i am cursed. i am riddled, and befuddled, and many other miscellaneous adjectives that could not make sense of what i truly feel, which, i suppose, is sick. i feel ill, truly taken, by this chosen hex: tonight, the monster has animated into life. i don’t need to sleep for this nightmare to come. he is present, and he is freakish, and here i lay in my bed all too aware of his shadow lurking largely in my bedroom. why! why! why! i had become comfortable in the belief that i could contain him. i took for granted the dreams that burdened me; at least then they were only dreams. but this is something i cannot wake up from, the monster, slinking and hulking about the corners of my bed, plucking at the frays of my blankets, like a broken-boned beast held together by only flesh.

i have been trying to practice secrecy. but something is telling me this is a skeleton too large to keep in the closet. would you tell me what to do? would you tell me what is right and what is not? would you touch my head and tell me it is all going to be okay? this evening i sat on the floor and hugged the leg of my older friend as she leaned against the wall. would it be ridiculous to say that, for a moment, she was my mother?

i am ill and alone. and there is no saving me here. left with no company, except, of course, the man, swimming in the darkness. and right now i would like him to be put down.

[meowmeowmeow9]

the sun comes out next week

and i’m gonna go see you

fresh breath, and new skin

i’ve heard your song

and i know every word

i look for you

in the light i’m lost in

in her curls, in his jokes

forget? you’re in everything

let’s get spiritual

let’s spend some time outside

you can pick a day, pick one with good weather

i’ll stick around as long as you let me

and i’ll say goodbye before i go

summer as a girl

[meowmeowmeow9]

you are hot to the touch; a forbidden thing

a scornful, grating image of disgrace

you are a sin, bird

and i am your kennel

to kiss you, the taste

of loose change, of chipped copper

of old and rotten erosion

you, bird, are my ugliest trait

i despise you; i abhor you; i condemn you

but at least we are in it together

[meowmeowmeow9]

i very much feel that i lay myself bare for people. it’s an ironic thing, because what i crave beyond anything is to be discovered, to be found, without handing myself over. there is so much of me, if you would only look. it is not until i am a thing of one’s past that they start searching for the artifacts that i have left in plain sight all along.

and i think that is the only way to truly love me. to search for me, in all that you can, so that in some way you may return to my arms and say, “i have discovered so much.”

something will cross my face that you have not seen before. i will hold your hands and they’ll be soft, and here you are, so dear to me. i would like to tell you just how much that i adore you. i would like to tell you that i am thankful. that you know me a certainly great amount better than many, that i would like to keep you here, for ever and ever, but there is no special way of saying it, no statement that does true justice to what i feel better than simply this: “you found me.”

that is how i would like to feel: found, discovered, and loved, as i have loved you, i have seen you in everything. i have listened and touched and witnessed all that i have been offered the opportunity to, of you, of what you love and see. i would like to make an entity of you that exists beyond likes and dislikes and thoughts and opinions. i would like to feel you, so that when there is a heavy breeze, your soul passes through me, and when i miss you dearly i can pay you a visit by touching my heart and closing my eyes, to relive our fondest memories of one another. you are more than what you are, you are an experience, you are an artwork, a being beyond humanity that i hold very close to me. you are my beloved friend and a gift i could never repay.

find me. i am looking for you always

[meowmeowmeow9]

out of sight and out of mind

i am quiet and ashamed.

the fool learns by losing

[meowmeowmeow9]

beloved

i never forget

i have grieved you already,

all of it already

i have grieved myself

she before her,

before and after

i will grieve you again,

her again

all that has been done and touched

and created and killed

all that you have seen

i have grieved it

i will grieve again, the world

and the breath that leaves me now

shall remain with her:

a pillar of everything, as everything has been and will be;

nothing at all

[meowmeowmeow9]

pretty little dove upon a tree

pretty little dove right next to me

what is that above?

i swear i see:

a pretty little dove upon a tree

[meowmeowmeow9]

the cold makes my legs shake; she makes me numb; she makes me vulnerable. it hurts, almost, the most pleasant kind of hurt, a hurt of love, how badly i love her, so much, i love her so much, and there or no words for it. sometimes, i make up my own, just to capture it: that pleasant hurt.

[meowmeowmeow9]

a telegram! i wonder of my sender and her spouse.

i picture us like standing opposite one another in a very crowded room, how two towers in a cluttered city gaze at each other from afar.

old friend, i'll take the tube as my pinky finger's cardinal thread feels the tug.

save your concern. all that is temporary. not me; i am still. still, i am, still, and yet, closer than ever

don't worry. winter is my time to be. i was built this way. my door stills ajar, i think of you while driving. you have taught me many things and with that you'll exist forever

[meowmeowmeow9]

i'm aware the diamond's brassed but i still possess the thought: regardless of your past a shrew, you are not.

i have considered the lilies and the sailors, and the sins i've pondered all the vanities, and the women, and the men the princes, and the brutes, and the cursing uncles tall and the friend who rarely checks in if, that is, at all.

it's frustrating, yes, but irrefutable: there's a warmth in my heart for each and so, i think, in another world i met you on the beach.

and that is where we spend our time laughing, dancing, worrying not drinking liquor lipped with lime and talking quite a lot.

[meowmeowmeow9]

i am the rib of adam

and i feel the turning of the wheel

prey, pet, parasite, regardless

it’s all the same blood when the book closes

let me be in the water: daisy fresh

let purity be where i lay

virgin and washed

and fragile, and small.

when you come into my room

and slip on the crimson

tell my mom it’s not her fault

[meowmeowmeow9]

[meowmeowmeow9]

september. what a spectacle of a month. were she a woman, i can imagine her long and snide, a tone about her that is off-putting, but not deterring. september, she gazes down her nose at you, eyes narrow. pensive maybe? that's the worst of it. you wouldn't know.

"a long year it's been." she'd say, and you'd agree with a silent nod, not daring to voice it. yes, we are all tired by now, and nobody looks forward to september--she's without holidays, unlike her triplet cousins (october, november, december), and without that flair of summer's youth, which is claimed proudly by her brothers and sister (june; july; august). she's a haughty, flaming phoenix of a woman.

september is the woman that men find themselves drawn to. she's damaged, they say. i can fix her. september is the woman that those men are wrong about. they're attracted to her pale skin and to the spider tattoo on her arm. she waits to be asked about it, but never is. even if they did ask, she'd probably answer with "i like spiders."

but september is more than that. she feels the gaze of passers by knowing that they don't think twice of her. on some days, she finds her face twisted in hurt and discontent, but quickly schools her expression, steeling herself before it can be noticed. her fear isn't to be forgotten: it's to be ignored.

she's an awkward shift of weight between summer and autumn, and a quaky pivot by the heel of passage into the ending quarter of the year. an honest answer about the tattoo might be that she has spent her life in the shadow of her cousin, and people seem to enjoy all hallows in her own month, and that the spider is her only sense of identity among the family. you'd consider telling her that the spider belongs to october, as it is in the spirit of october's holiday, but you'd be best not to. september is a girl of icy eyes and vulnerable heart.

yes, i see past the act of the spider-inked. conclusively, i'll say this and leave it to remain here, at the cusp of her sleep, as in 4 days she will rest and her cousin will be greeted with cheers: don't forget about september, and don't ignore her either. she is as lonely as you are.