Sunsets ocean waves, I can't get up early to watch the sun rise. I accept not living across the street from water. I take the F an hour and a half to Coney Island. Can't afford to rent a car to visit Point Pleasant or Lavalette. Chris never chooses the Coney Island commute, will complain, won't do it. I am open to the wasted space, ready to find more, willing to be stranded for a while near the water. How to use energy How to be in this time hello me, hello mom, there, where?, here. Retrieve. The physical music of your voice is gone. I am in a vacant lot some nights with no car no buildings, no sounds of birds. Nature, I stop, here. The nectar is your poetry, lettters, emails, cards, clothing, jewelry Bumblebees and butterflies flit near flowers I am our creation the embodiment of love continues.
I don't carve letters I rip the skin, peel again and again until I bleed. Sticky red water drops form mini scabs self-inflicted little wounds each finger only fingers more and more. Skin heals quickly noticeable growth in nail bed, but again and again I tear pull yank back my own flesh and side of nails more than ever yet on the rare occasion when they are painted I leave them alone. Dry skin calls out little flaps easy to grab harder to stop refrain mame. It can be excitement under the table at a restaurant as a friend is sharing stories emotions and I return tales time time time to be energetic or to be the way I am supposed to be or am. At least three fingers on each hand are blackboards of naked words you can't see the sentence says I am on edge I like to hurt the first peel feels gooood exhilarating necessary little to no damage done Then a bit more then who the fuck cares I do. Lotion and soften filing the nails and rest...
flying in my homemade sleigh navigating family memories to three-year-old me, Shirley Temple cheeks, smile and curls, red dress with pearly polka dots, winter white tights black patent leather Mary Janes full-on lighthearted glee rocking horse through time and years to high school, college, beyond, mom's stuffed twice baked potatoes with cheddar and bacon cornish hens with stuffing inside, crunchy on the edge like I like the three of us: Mom, Dad, Jenn attend church service at Grace Methodist, lighting candles, taking communion, singing as one Mom wears the silver fox fur that is now hanging in my closet then Christmas Eve viewing the lights in Alamogordo, description of holiday designs and colors, following the luminaria trail in our red and silver Chevrolet through Tularosa after dinner Dad drives me to Jess's or Kira's to exchange gifts and hugs inside our casa at 1315 Desert Eve, there are ceramic village houses from Aunt Ka...
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