i. honestly it’s really weird here. a neon house in the middle of nowhere
painted in mod tones of girlish pink, orange, and turquoise.
it’s perkiness is self-conscious without being self-aware,
childish without being genuinely naive.
someone is always scowling and moving meatloaf from one container to another.
I feel like stale toast, bland & scratchy
like toast on your bedside table
I wish I felt more like St Basil’s
[Perhaps you don’t see the cathedral often, and have no personal ties to St. Basil’s, but in the abstract you realize the respect that it commands for it’s unusual form, beautiful exterior, and it’s life as a crux of spiritual energy. Maybe you don’t know anything about it’s history and have no desire to research this place since it is across the globe and is not a significant part of your life, but you realize it has years of rich history and secrets that give it it’s own life and character, and so you treat it with reverence if you ever have the occasion to visit.]
if I touch your hand will you twist away?
I feel dirty & revolting
& now I want to lie down in the gutter and not move again.
I won’t talk
if you’ll just leave me here
is that guy your pimp
uhm, no, wanna be my roommate?
we can brush each other’s hair.
we can double date & watch our friends shop for matching lampshades
until I feel like “The Scream” in a Bed Bath & Beyond
can we live happily in silence?
I touch nothing and occupy space like a gentle genie next to your bookshelf.
I have zero needs and I have nothing to say.
Please let me stay forever.