Frenching with ardent snowflakes was my youthful pastime. Once, in high school, I danced like no one was watching as the snow gently fell, but I was in a courtyard surrounded by windows, and everyone was watching. Early hypomania, before mania bloomed in my mind like a cantankerous blossom of energy. My ankle is derelict. I can’t walk far. But my mind is at the edge of the solar system, stepping out into a blistering future of stars.
Day: December 8, 2025
Casual Thrills
Psychedelic sunshine slits open my dark inner chambers, piercing my side. I leak glitter – beautiful and cheap like talk, like casual thrills, like loss. The wind is loving and cool in my hair. In my psyche, a desert with an oasis of blood. This will be my punishment.
Prairie Like Tinfoil
Jilted raindrops storm off from the clouds. The prairie wrinkles and crumples like tin foil – and it’s just as shiny. Angels play Uno under a lone tree, who helps one of them cheat. I walk toward them but will never reach them. The prairie has other plans, as does the dragonfly shimmering beside me. I’m pretty sure he’s just Death singing a lullaby only I can hear. My soaked slip sticks to me like the music of my husband’s deft fingers. Lingering in the cool air, half evaporated ghosts of truths long lost.
Miniature Moon 