it's night that's unbearable, almost

it's night that's unbearable, almost, what to do with my hands my mind swirling, rain falls loud soothing on rotting shingles thin panes of glass. a kid i'd lie in bed listening to thunder too excited to sleep, run to the window breath/hand prints on glass, look, look. in the morning disheveled hair wild eyes pulling on rubber boots step out to meet it stomp the gutters, float leaf-boats, play i got older sat on the wooden porch bench covered but inhaling, tickling my fingers out past the edge. or stood walked to the driveway eyes lifting up to the sky smiling arms spread wide hair getting wet. if my car weren't sick i'd get up and drive (over the bridge under the rain canopy still-silent sanctuary filtering wet black leaves).



sorry Ezra.




i started singing again today, feels good oh yes why did i stop do it again, again, again! s/he rolls their eyes. okay how's this the cat watches a documentary about the history of bubblegum and i cross my legs.


i don't know what to say next only that i bought candy at the gas station it was as i expected full of sugar and food coloring but it's important, i think, not to be too good. i remember i covered the walls of the bedroom in my parents' house, women bearing swords, leather sandals, standing up on rollercoasters wind blowing up her skirt. i bought the wooden advertisement on the streets of berkeley her on a bike with a falcon lit up behind her me hoping for talismans to render me bold.

right now i don't feel it just constrained to this apartment covered in rain and wishing for movement for music loud singing wheels carrying me there.