No. 8.

I need to start seeing myself as something that's blooming.

No. 7.

I don't believe that everything needs a mystical explanation. We're human beings. Sometimes we act like animals.

Ninety (1).

Eighty-nine. Here.

I am done panicking
about time
and bad attic dreams.
I give myself flowers, chocolates,
orgasms. Turning the room pink.
There comes a point
where you don't want
to explain yourself to anybody.

Eighty-eight.

I love you.
Let's move
west.

No. 6.

I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY.

Eighty-seven.

If I can't have love, then at least
give me something that feels like a car crash.









[image by Jenna Popoli]