Bitter

maybe it’s the dark,
acidic coffee I refuse
to take any other way

or the wind lashing
at my exposed neck
this autumnal morning

it could be the disgusting
cigarettes I smoke too much
or the anxiety that shakes me

I feel it coming
like knots in my throat
like frozen dark chocolate

and there’s nothing I can do about it.

maybe I’m just bitter.

 

La Petite Mort

my lover is arcane
for, he only speaks in tongues
he breathes cold, cadaverous air
to fill my empty lungs

Latin chants
over freshly turned earth
he comes creeping in the night
when not another soul is heard

beneath a new moon sky
and in the howling wind
he quietly stalks
aching to nourish his sins

cemeteries are always silent
for, death brings with him a certain hush
you can barely hear his ghostly moans,
not even the roses blush

my lover is strange
for, he never makes a sound
but the pale look in his eyes
can make my dead heart pound

his voice sends gentle waves into the air
they resonate loud around my head
just long enough to
bring me back from the dead

aural necromantics,
we dance beneath decade-old graves
to the cadence of collecting memories
something my body yearns for and craves

again and again,
he brings me back to life
as our lascivious scene fades
into black and white

and when we are together,
I am but frail bones beneath his grip
there is little else I yearn for as
his bony fingers trace my hips

draped in black lace
between silk coffin sheets
my lover and I breathe
one foot apart and six feet deep

eternally I will lie
here in his stone-cold clutch
he is my graveyard baby,
my skeleton boy crush

 

 

Thunderstorm/Forestfire

I Like The Way You Are
Both A Thunderstorm And
A Forest Fire At The Same Time
there is a storm of quiet
rain in your eyes
from a distance it is
streaks of heavy purple
on a mountain top
blue glaze that says, “hello
come along, my friend”
something warm in the
invitation, orange and brown
pulls you into frame
forests, acres, burned swiftly
in a single act of passion
flames lick everything
they can taste
to rebuild upon
black flats of
ash

Pre-Departure Reflections

I am currently typing the start of this journal from a golden bubble bath at 7am, seething with both anxiety and glitter. I am sure this will be posted far later today, but for the record, I am bathing and freaking out.

Today is my last full day in the U.S. of A. and my God my dudes I am freaking out. I had my last day as a team member at Jamba Juice yesterday, it was a good summer job. Made some new friends and had some good laughs over a lot of spilled orange juice (i’m talking gallons. oops.) The day before yesterday was my last day working as a Congressional Intern for Congressman Denny Heck. Now that was badass. It was an unpaid internship and driving my ass out to Lacey while also working another job was definitely starting to take a toll but it was definitely worth it. I learned so much and made so many new connections, all the opportunities in my field of study and future career are literally endless. I’m pretty stoked about it.

Fast forward to the end of today. Today was my last day. I spent today quietly. My love and I dug around some serious antique shops today and picked out two beautiful promise rings before I take off. Something a little dated and traditional, but it will be nice to have something tangible to hold when I am over 6,000 miles away from him for the next four months or so. I’m pretty excited about them, actually.

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We hit downtown Puyallup and spent the day exploring in and out of old shops, but eventually found what we needed. I channeled my inner-goth, this lovely last gloomy day here in Washington. I enjoyed it quite a bit.

I also made my rounds of goodbyes. I hit my old workplace, had dinner with the madre, and said my farewells to the boyfriend’s parents as well. I sit here with Jake at my side, for a final evening before I depart, we haven’t said bye yet. Saving all that gushy shit for a dramatic airport exit, of course.

I’m excited about a lot of things. I’ve been told that there is no experience really comparable to studying abroad. Integrating into a whole new culture, mastering another language that my tongue is still trying to adjust to, and building new connections I otherwise would never have been able to make. I will be taking four classes abroad and already have a few internship interviews lined up already upon my first week of arrival. I’ll be sure to update on those!

I feel as prepared as I could possibly be. I’ve probably made over a dozen lists in the last week, bags have been packed and unpacked and packed again (I had to add Halloween decor, of course) (I totally have my priorities in line, I promise, but Halloween is very important, too). I have my cameras, my notebooks, backpacks, and poetry. I think I am ready. Yet at the same time, it feels like I am forgetting something like super duper important, the anxiety is beginning to really set in. On the one hand: it’s just a semester. Four months, I’ll be back by Christmas. On the other hand, I won’t be back until Christmas. That is an entire 112 days abroad. 16 weeks alone! It feels like a lifetime. It’s also fun to think my very first apartment will be 6,791 miles away from the city I call home. Ironically, the name of my apartment building actually translates to “The Poet”. No joke. So you know, I’m pretty okay with it.

Here’s to probably the most anxiety-inducing thing I have ever done ever. Wish me luck. Take off in T-Minus 11 hours.