hazecitron

call me
sometime
Adam in
the garden
of midsummer eve
today
just wanted to feel
that round plastic on
my hips one more time
droppin' tears
droppin' seeds
suntime, this is it
when I'm
most alive
keep dancin'
to throw
'em off but
gotta cry
as soon as
I'm alone
afraid to get cut
open again
I told 'em
to take it out
what the fuck else
could anyone want
I cannot
I brushed my hair
today in the mirror
in my bra
and underwear
wet dreams
reminded of a time
in high school
young
doing my hair
makeup
kilt to my knees
multicoloured
ribbony scrunchies
blue and green
eyeshadows imagining
to myself
someday I'll be older
grown out
pretty
have a boyfriend
a motorcycle
it's funny
better in some ways
freedom is how
you perceive
your life
I can blend
disappear
I know
stay strong
but damn
five surgeries in
and hey
I got this
kinda don't
shaking
I'll dance one more time
and I'll cry

how ya feel?
how ya feel?

sleepsound 

dripping, darkwet

slithering through digital

screens draining, neck sore

panhandling man sighing

louder, I don’t carry 

cash anymore

just tap the phone 

a screen on a screen on a

transaction complete

charge the smoke 

charge the smokes

charge the stag 

lights go out

breaking breakers

signal cuts 

a sharp global knife

slicing through wire 

like coconut oil

got a heart

full and brimming with 

deepdark light

guess I’d like

to drive on my own

to the coast 

deep-blue space 

crashing, lulling

escape 

accounting the only home

that I own is

a library of fire

my disconnect that 

gleams lack of faith

is purely respire

of instinctual ventures

that have spiraled inside

for eras 

and nanoseconds

both and forever  

Wander

duality dribbling
trying to disconnect
from the illusory circuit
cyclical, all of it
a matter of recognition
when I see the same teachings
dressed in dark shadows
and fanciful costumes
a preoccupation from
noticing the obscurities
clinging to the corners
like dangling cobwebs
a jumbled pattern is
what it all boils down to
we are what we do
and some things are a virtue
the wander will continue
we are not static
the feelings are
simply sensations
drifting inside and out
of a quivering fleshbag
the antidote is always
to drift from that place
from the monkey emotions
to find serenity in the elements
in mountains, in the forest

Wicked Game

I am on my hands and knees.
Bending at the heart of me.

Stop to catch a shattered inhale
Can’t get it inside
Of me fast enough.
Crisp, clean air.
I looked back and
I shouldn’t have.
The sweet smell
Of salt and trees, standing
At the edge of the ocean.
Dancing for the waves.
I drift.
The best parts of me, come
Out when everything else
Has been let go.
Keep running.
Slip into the abyss,
Of where is she now.
Who knows.

Hiding in the midnight of my soul.

The Headland of the Eastport Peninsula at Salvage, September 19, 1986

 

Dubium Sunshine

I try to hide the things I don’t want to see.
And if my mind goes crazy I will follow your lead.

The doctor’s knife
is mighty sharp
dipping into parts
of me,
Don’t cry ’cause
if you do,
I will too,
and that’s not going to
do either of us any good
now will it, sweetie?

And it’s funny how,
it’s so much easier
behind a screen
to have these talks
the words,
they come out clean,
we have time to refine
our thoughts and feelings
and thank god
we don’t have to deal
with facial expressions
or an awkward silence
in between

So she emailed me,
the time and day
when I’d show up
forgetting slippers and strip
down to my underwear,
using that knitted sweater
I look pretty in
as a comfort blanket,
and it’s been a long time
since I’ve had an Ativan
so that’s really nice
and using the baby IV,
that’s really sweet

Let the medicine
trickle into me gently,
I’ve spent enough time
thinking anything less
could actually hurt me
I shudder at that
creeping feeling
of needing,
how it found its way out
like a worm

The desire
to be caressed or
kissed on the neck,
I’m kind of glad that
He never got to feel
me wrap my toes
around his Achilles’ heel
it would have hurt,
to feel someone hate that

So now I can focus,
on the matter at hand
this process must be
done in solitude these
altercations of the heart
the slicing of that
which doesn’t serve me
petty liaisons are
the least of my worries,
And I’m glad,
when they put on the gas mask
and I’m happy,
to cut out another piece
’cause who needed it anyway

It’s just blood tithings, babe.

So thanks for sending this over
let me just fax a response
after I’ve cleared my head
I’ll just email you my blood work
and my heart scans,
print out a prescription
for opiates and yes,
I’ll be careful with them,
they are damn nice for that pang
though I’ll have to admit

And I’ll try to
forgive myself for all the
“I should have knowns,”
while I’m lying in bed
replaying scenarios, like
cheeseburgers on Valentines
sure I’ll be okay, even though
I have this nasty tendency
to faint you know
but off I go with no breakfast,
stay in bed and sleep,
and I know I repeat myself
when I drink too much it’s
like an anxious tick

The impending doom
of a knife, reminds me
that these organs are not
to be toyed with,
real heartache is not
something I need to deal with,
outside of the contraption
that’s been sliding around
inside of me, trying to
gather information
about the algorithms
of my heart beat,
and I really don’t need to
distract myself with these
haphazard romantic antics,
these fake pirouettes
I’ve been trying to dance, just to
impress nobody

So for now, I’ll allow
the scars and mistakes
They’ve made me who I am
even now while I’m
drifting out of consciousness,
I know that all of this it
happens for a reason,
So thanks for holding my hand up
to the scary part and letting me
deal with this on my own

Crazy I will follow your lead.

Godot

GK2qamy

Sometimes, the ducks are not aligned.
And sometimes, there may not even be a single fucking duck in sight.

From where I stand, the waters are choppy. There is no solid ground for me to walk across. And so I’ve set up camp, making a comfortable nest by the shore. Waiting for a feathered friend of purpose to cross my path again. To quack a little inspiration my way.

I sit in silence. Throw out a line, wait for the fish to bite. I could stay here. Comfortable.
Watching the waters break and curve before me. It’s easy. This no duck life. I start to forget what it’s like. That anxious trying to control feeling. The one where you grasp and reach. I watch the sun rise and set, the moon get wet.

I’m tired of trying to lure them in. These birds that don’t exist.