izzy

thinking about ways to be a good human
sometimes that just means finding the energy
to swing my legs outside of the covers and get out of bed
and try to walk down the street with a smile for the sky
because, hey, the sun is trying too
even though it’s sort of piss-weak today

I can close my eyes and put my hand in my own hand
I can hold my own hand with my eyes closed and pretend
but I still know it’s just me holding my own hand

I’m feeling like I might be becoming antisocial
most of what I want to do right now consists of being alone in my room
or I also want to talk to people on the internet more than before
I guess maybe because they are actually physically distant now

a lot of things in our house are broken
and I think my room is almost definitely the coldest room
but I am relatively happy here anyway

I’m actually starting to despise the perfect photos
of people’s beautiful, organised, unattainable studios
where are all the parties at?
fuck my Gorman clogs, my Neuw jumper
I just want to kick the dirt and feel it splat my face

people walking past screaming the lyrics of some
terrible 80s pop song with peanut butter voices
punctuated by the sound of the other guy with them
going ‘no no no no NO NO NO NO’

until he flys into a full-blown psychotic rage
and runs away screaming and kicking lampposts
and the stars scream back at him ‘FUCK YOU’
and try to send a meteor shower directly at him
but he is moving too fast

I don’t know why I want to apologise a lot right now
I feel weird and fractured, I guess and
I don’t really know how to stick the pieces together
sometimes maybe

*

sarah

O how they soar
Those fierce parabolas
Cresting the coast of your skin
Such beautiful savagery
Indecent, orgiastic
These charnel-house, desperate scars.
And who can say how brightly they burn
Who can count the depth of their piercing
Who is there to follow the footsteps
That scatter like breath in the snow?

*