in a million years
when my daughter asks me
why I take these little pills
I’m going to tell her
that when I was little
just a little older than her
I didn’t like the world very much
and I was so stubborn
that I made my own world
and I lived there
until I found out
that I couldn’t survive outside
not anymore

and when she learns in class
that humans can’t survive on mars
and that there’s no water
and not enough oxygen
on the beautiful venus
she’ll understand
that humans shouldn’t go looking
for other worlds
because some of us have found them
and we’re all taking
these little pills

me desdobro e me desfaço e me refaço e me redobro. a casa não tem mais gosto de casa e as pessoas não têm mais gosto algum daí tudo que sobra é esse amargo na boca de quem foi morder a fruta com a boca boa e desistiu na primeira mordida. estou como sempre estive: parada observando a vida das coisas, puxando todo esse ar vivo para dentro como se ele fosse me levar junto. esqueço de soltar o ar e às vezes só lembro quando observo outra vida em outra coisa e penso se não quero roubar um ar diferente. puxo para dentro todos os segredos que guardo para te contar e nunca conto. e nunca solto. não sei soltar o que é meu. todos os 365 dias de cada um dos meus 20 anos são meus e meus e só meus e a verdade é que preciso saber. preciso saber, caso eu ceda e solte, para onde é que eles vão? para onde vai a tristeza depois que se torna insuportável carregá-la para todo canto? para cima, para baixo, para a esquina, para o fim (mas nunca para dentro). e se eu largar mão de todas essas minhas vidas que carrego e no fim das contas não existir mais vida em mim, e aí? sei que não é verdade, mas as inverdades me assustam invariavelmente porque na hora de sentir não sei diferenciar o que estou sentindo para além daquilo que me assusta.

Eram 4:15h quando eu me rendi a viver, então, desci com minha cachorra até o pátio porque ela parecia estar com sede. Lá eu me plantei, ao lado da piscina, me plantei como um poste. Não, poste não se planta. Me plantei como uma árvore. Mas árvores não se plantam, são plantadas por alguém e fui eu mesma que me plantei ali. Minha natureza de ir direto ao ponto me trai, então vou ceder e dizer-lhes a verdade: Ela me chamou até lá e me plantou abaixo dela, logo ali, ao lado da piscina.

Nos analisamos. Ambas belas, ambas meio confusas, meio sem saber se vai ou se volta, se tem para onde ir e se é que tem para onde voltar. Ela, a lua, estava radiante em sua aura dourada.

There was something very clearly golden about her. Golden as in the beautiful kind of light that casts this ethereal spell of peace upon its beholder. She was calling out to me, for me to be golden as she is. To be bigger than this human body, to be bigger than this pesky human ego. I went back inside and surrendered to existing, and that would have continued throughout dawn, hadn’t my dog gone into the living room. I followed her and tried to see my golden equal again, through the windows, but I had to look all the way up to see her once again. And what came to me, then, was the image of that same moon being seen through a window up on a hill, without any buildings and houses and static blocking its light. I thought to myself that when my time comes, I’d like to spend my days in a place like the one I’d imagined, surrounded by the moon, by the birds and by all there is in the Universe other than these human bodies. It seems to me that it would be quite calming to go “to the beyond” while surrounded by the beyond itself.

This gave me an idea and ideas excite me until that excitement is quickly shattered by pessimism and now I’m here in this void e a vida tá chamando de novo mas eu ainda não estou cedendo.

you slithered

your way

to me

and clenched

your frail body

around my ribs.

I dissolved

in your grip

as you swallowed me whole.

at night I fall in love with you

but I do not know

who you are

during the day

the days that go on

for entire lifetimes

the days that are sweaty

with air

thick as the salt in the sea

and the people

empty as the footprints

deep in the mud

from the days I walk away

and once the day is over

the rain washes over the filth

and the mud fills the holes

made by a stubborn little girl

whose mommy told her

she ain’t getting her way

and once the night arrives

we make our way back

me and that little girl

I’m in love with him again

and she gave up

on getting her way

neither of us are happy

My leg itches. It itches and itches and itches. It’s a deep itch, as if there’s something stuck so deep inside that I can’t scratch it out. My legs are pale and dry because they itch and itch and itch. All day and all night. It’s gotten worse in the last few days,. I got in one of my moods today. Those moods in which I feel like I’m the water that’s already going down the drain. It’s that drink I had, maybe, it brings it out. The itch. I should know better and it pisses me off that I’m still making the same mistakes I made at 15. I’ve been getting lost in my thoughts all day all week all year. It frightens me that people keep saying these things, so many things, and I have absolutely no idea what they’re saying. Maybe it’s the timer, the fucking timer, it has me running in circles. The end is near and I need it to be here already. I need to breathe. I need to breathe like you do when you open a window and this breeze comes in and just takes over for a second. Music makes me breathe but music doesn’t last forever and if god did exist I’d put him in hell for how fleeting that breeze is.

Everything itches in this house. And you scratch and scratch and scratch until there’s blood and then there are pools of blood and suddenly you’re drowning in yourself and this happens over and over and over again. There’s no fucking crystal or incense or therapist or psychiatrist that can make it stop and it still pisses me off after all these years. I want to be free but people take it away from me. No, that’s a lie, it’s not the people, we’re all tied up with the same ropes. There’s no way out, though. That’s the trap. It’s your life and it’s in your hands but your hands can only do so much and they’re tied up in everything society has led you to be. And I scratch and scratch and scratch it and it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds and it goes on and on and so on while Rhiannon is taken by the wind and oh god how easily I’d kill to be her.

It burns.
they’re burning,
my lungs
I’m just drowning in this sea
I’m getting in too deep
it’s hurting me.
the mere thought of not seeing the surface
makes this
so goddamn frightening

it’s a mess of black and green and wet
but sometimes the sunlight flickers
in the midst of this dense salty sea
and honey, is it beautiful
it’s this beautiful dirty grotesque masterpiece
I couldn’t write it if I tried

I have no memory
How did I end up here?
I hate the sea,
the waves scare me
What am I doing here?
Oh god it just looked so beautiful
I couldn’t help myself
I’m drowning but it doesn’t even matter
Nothing matters because my heart is beating
and the water beats with me
and the world is in unison
I could be here forever

but a human brain
in a mystical place
isn’t really worth anything
Survive, you weak little girl!
and I swim oh I swim until the burning in my arms
is so painful
I can’t even feel my lungs in flames anymore
and this is better because this pain isn’t half as frightening
and this is worse because it isn’t half as appealing

I’m back on land
and I look in the mirror
and I say to myself
cold and proud
honey,
I’m home

it’s always one look,
one day where I look in the mirror a little
too long
and then I look
too close
at one of those spots
or scars
or lines.
I used
to try
to tear them out.

so I decided I would be beautiful
and that this would be it.
now, the girl in the mirror was confident,
and free.
she was on top of the goddamn world.
she didn’t care
that the girls on the TV
are white
and fit
and tall,
but I do care
and indeed they are.
I was cruel
to the girl in the mirror,
so she left.
I guess even this god-like woman,
she fractures
under my vicious glower.

she’s been replaced
by the neurotic little girl
that lived there for so long.
I know the woman will come back,
maybe she just needed some time
to forgive me.

I wish
the girl
and the woman
and I
could make amends.

if only we didn’t all hate each other so much.

I have been looking for you everywhere
I have looked for you in art
I have looked for you in words
I have looked for you around my room
and in my bed
and in the hallways
as if
you would simply
materialize
in front of me
I have looked for you exactly as a child
looks for
an imaginary friend
This person I feel
this person I look for
are they really here?
I’m afraid of finding you
I’m afraid of finding you
I am afraid of finding you
and regretting having ever looked

Finally,
I searched for you in the cards
The cards told me many things
They told me
you’re ahead in the game
then again
that I already knew
Then, they revealed both my worst fear
and my best wish
and that they were the same
to be neck deep
in joy
but, again,
that I already knew.
And finally,
they told me
that you might be ahead
but the knife is in my hand.
And that the thin, trembling bones
that form my hands
cannot bare
to hold a knife.

I only saw the vision
and what the vision showed
was me
and my shaky bones
hurting myself with this knife.
I cannot trust these hands of mine
they tremble
and they cut.
And the little girl
she told me this would last until
I could no longer stand it
and that I would use my knife
to cut my own hand
out of yours.
This is more likely
than it is
for me to be at peace with joy.