gender bending

my first boyfriend
wore face powder
& lip gloss
(i still remember
the smell of kissing him)
his hair
was longer than mine
but once i shaved
off all
my hair
every one of my boys
had hair
longer than mine
because i so loved
the girly boys
with their long
slender
fingers
& their long
batting
eyelashes
every once in awhile
i dated
a chiseled-chin
dimpled cheeks covered
in manly stubble
all the more fun
to dress
them in
lacy lingerie.

this poem was inspired by a completely harmless innocent tiny little crush on my gender fluid editor-to-be…because i wouldn’t be me if i didn’t develop inappropriately intimate feelings for someone i am to be working with….

meanwhile, the ryan renolds movie marathon continues. (i watched the nines last night & loved it. i am pretty sure i am also a nine & that i have created y’all)
i bet ryan renolds would look hot as fuck dressed in “women’s” clothes….

in other news, i am having dizzy spells & my head feels weird…so i’m pretty sure i have a tumor. here is a conundrum…how does a hypochondriac know when they are actually sick? my anxiety manifests as physical symptoms…but what if i really am sick & just dismissing it as stress-induced?…(see how that can spin out fast?)

also, my lawn really really is supposed to be mowed by conventional standards, but i have a hard time thinking about mowing down all those innocent flowers.
if it weren’t for ticks & mosquitoes, i would totally have a wild as fuck lawn.

may the fourth be with you.

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hotel california

the drone of the fans
in the basement
will hopefully help me sleep
’cause last night
i was awake
or fitfully sleeping
twisting & turning
as water
crept & dripped into my basement
gallons of water
absorbed into
powder
fucking
blue
carpet…
i used to call this place
bullfrog song
now i call it
hotel california
i just want to be
anywhere
but
here
but road trips detoured
by leaky
basements….

i was totally going to go to iowa & look for a place to live. however! water coming in through a wall dumping gallons onto the floor despite the floor drain just feet away….
this place is a fucking nightmare.
& my mom is pissed that my dad died first & left her to deal with it.
& i’m pissed that i got tricked into living here by siblings that wanted to live footloose & fancy free far away from familial home….
added to my list of things i never wanted to do alone: deal with a flooded basement.

i am brain dead.
all i can do is watch ryan renolds movies, drink beer, & wander to the basement on occasion to bail out this sinking ship….

fuck me.

david’s battle

the seemingly
incessant
drone
as crop dusters
raid the air
above me
the earth
around me
coated in their
poisonous wake…
& i listen
to the silence
they leave behind
straining & hoping
for the hum
of pollinator’s wings
& the song
that once filled
the night air
from my frog-filled pond
dead quiet greets me now
& i lay awake
for all the noise
in my fevered
mind.

originally posted july 17, 2018
re-done for the invisible exhibitionist

IMG_2476

written last summer when i was being assaulted by crop dusters for two weeks straight. an assault that my bee colonies eventually were murdered by….
one reason i am anxious to leave this place.
the poisons of the city seem a lot less noxious than the poisons of the countryside.
this is the world we live in.

IMG_2469

i thought it was funny that i was working on this while drinking aviation american gin. a gin that i bought because ryan renolds told me to. i will do anything he says. ever since “two guys, a girl, & a pizza place”….sigh….
that’s how lonely i am, y’all
gin & imaginary romances….

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