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marisol. 14. aries. dragon.
it's raining smoke tonight and the sky
is knocking on my windowsill.

car window selfie

9:28 pm      1 note
July 25 2014

“This time everyone has the best intentions. You have cancer. Let’s say you have cancer. Let’s say you’ve swallowed a bad thing and now it’s got its hands inside you. This is the essence of love and failure. You see what I mean but you’re happy anyway, and that’s okay, it’s a love story after all, a lasting love, a wonderful adventure with lots of action, where the mirror says mirror and the hand says hand and the front door never says Sorry Charlie. So the doctor says you need more stitches and the bruise cream isn’t working. So much for the facts. Let’s say you’re still completely in the dark but we love you anyway. We love you. We really do.”

— Richard Siken, You Are Jeff


11:25 pm     4 notes
July 24 2014
Post tags: beautiful richard siken you are jeff this piece breaks my heart words

A Tragic Love Story

I thought the wad of gum 
on the sidewalk was a rock
so I wrote about it.

You’re the gum.
My words are the rock.
And I’m the sidewalk.

No matter how far I run,
the school will burst into flames,
my feet get tired,
you’re still stuck on my skin,

hardening under the sun
like a rock,

like the words engraved
on my grandmother’s tombstone.

I’m still running,

scorching
under the sun.

I didn’t know the fire was burning
inside of me.


1:17 pm     2 notes
July 23 2014


10:24 pm
July 22 2014

i.
We drove to Sacramento three days ago and drove by this little town that made me want to cry. A movie theatre: “BEGIN AGAIN NOW SHOWING.” An outdoor restaurant with a beautiful fountain. Friends walking hand in hand. An empty bar. Little shops. It was perfect. I want to live there.

ii.
My cousin taught me how to swim two days ago! I still don’t know how to float, but I can swim! 

iii.
Yesterday, the grown-ups went to the casino, which left me and my cousin to look after the little kids. We made them chocolate-covered bite-sized donuts and ordered Pizza Hut. I dipped the donuts in butter and cinnamon and she washed the dishes. The doorbell rang. She paid the guy sixteen dollars off of her “dogsitting” money and sliced the pizza into smaller pieces so that there’s enough for the six of us. We made smoothies, cut three straws in half, and played football in her pool, which made me realize how much I miss playing football. Then we just chilled out the rest of the day.

iv.
Drive home: 1 hour, 50 minutes, the mountains’ shadow against the sky’s remaining light, and a radio station that plays Michael Buble and Ingrid Michaelson.


9:20 pm
July 21 2014

"i clung to you hoping we’d both drown"

a poem inspired by a flatsound album title and a story i’m writing

Did you hold onto me because
you thought I’d carry you out of the water?

I only know how to swim.
It sucks I don’t know how to float.

When we’re in the same room
our weight becomes one
and it’s almost impossible to drag each other
out of the deep.

My eyes burn
whenever I see you drowning
in my sleep
so I keep them shut
every time I think about you.

I know this trick won’t last forever.
I might as well be blind.

Push me into the pool
and I’ll grab your feet on purpose.

I don’t want to kill you. 
I promise promise promise
I won’t.

I just thought
wrapping our bodies around each other
and holding our breaths
would keep us

alive.


11:59 am     3 notes
July 16 2014

Nothing feels right anymore and I think it’s my fault.

i’ve been thinking a lot about how 
it must feel like to exist
and be alive at the same time.

everything makes me sad.
the way old people eat makes me sad.
the way strangers are so happy makes me sad.
the way people love money makes me sad.
the pictures on my drawer makes me sad.

"tomorrow" is my favorite word
and my therapist thinks that says a lot about me
but it’s just a goddamn word
that sounds pretty when i roll it off my tongue.

i dreamed about him five times last week
but i don’t like him anymore.

i was sick for five days 
and my ears hurt
and my chest feels tight
and my nails are normal again.

there’s a rock stuck in my throat
and i can’t spit it out.


4:15 pm     2 notes
July 8 2014