Listen to Tei Shi. She’s awesome. 

im quitting you right…

It sounds like you're really torn up over this guy. I've been there, and you may want to cut and run, it'll be worth it long term

@Anonymous

Perhaps. I have trouble giving up on people who I truly believe are worth it. Oh well.

me.

dipping a milano cookie in skim milk

everything about you wrapped in cellophane 
found at a vinyl shop on bleecker in between
dusty racks of german disco funk and ABBA,
a rare symmetry that parallels the way i hold
onto your finger and the stuff below your waist—
i write all about these futile endeavors of mine

to make sense of your swollen piano hands and
your contralto—or whatever—my ears are maroon
and my eyes are glazed over from aeons spent 
researching newts and the spy kits from childhood,
all half-assed efforts to make sense of your cold,
your discipline—you know the right way to kill men

who are vulnerable and irate, who are meticulous
in their search for compassion and gym clothing,
who are me under your watchful metronome, a
glass fixture given to you by a deceased relative—
you were their favorite and you are my favorite—
so i continue to make excuses for your stagnancy.

Elaine De Kooning paints Frank O’Hara. 

It’s horrible that I’m constantly refashioning myself to be a ‘better’ me for you. 

i haven’t really achieved anything as of late

i took my copy of pale fire with me to the greek isles the summer before
i graduated high school and had my appendix removed after falling from 
a swing in the playground where i first kissed a banana spider and licked
your nipples—no i would never—my index and middle would make scissors
and i considered you a delicacy right before playing the grand in the den—
the sort of awe one usually has for toddler productions or degeneratives—
the diseases that cripples my grandmother— the deterioration i said i would like to explore in my college essay to vassar—which asked for a “reason” and a “major influence” and i couldn’t help but think of the night you told me ”i want to kiss your face” because everything—and i mean everything—is a recollection of evenings where i feel less desperate about wanting you in the summer when you’ll be wearing short shorts and i’ll just be here…

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