new aesthetic: surreal pop punk
your shorts are glowing and are made of a material not known to this world. your vans die and regenerate every night. every band does covers of gregorian chants. your bangs extend into infinity.
fall out void
Abandon your mortal form and ascend to a higher plane! at the disco
do kickflips over the softly undulating balls of light that form on the sidewalks. your snapback is nothing but a concept.
I did not always think my mother was beautiful.
She was always soft and comforting,
always a bit older than the other moms, a bit heavier, a bit grayer,
always pushing me a bit farther, a bit harder than I was ready for,
always finding the things that were not satisfactory.
She was always waiting for me to find what was wrong inside her aching wide-open heart and put it back together with my small hands,
I’ve never found it.
My mother is beautiful. She has a radiant smile that crinkles her hazel
eyes, that stretches over her large crooked teeth,
teeth like mine,
my teeth she would never allow fixed,
my teeth that mark me as her daughter. Her beautiful, imperfect, so-similar daughter.
We have the same voice on the telephone, we use the same words.
I love my teeth.
My father is a steady, weathered man.
He sowed his wild oats young,
he came home and the Father ran to meet him.
I have never for a moment thought he might leave me.
He is as accepting and affirming as the sea,
eyes as pale and blue,
his voice the first to welcome. I learned everything I know about unconditional love from this man.
Here’s the thing:
I have my father’s eyes, my mother’s
All of the best parts of a million other people’s choices
come together in me.
Everything in northern Germany smacks of the salt of prehistory,
of the river Weser’s silty trail.
The people seem dark and solemn to me, full of dead humor,
even the ones I love,
even the ones who have been so kind to me.
This is the place that stole my poetic voice.
Today I walked down the street where my world was cracked and stretched and twisted into some gruesome and foreign thing
and seven minutes ago.
That endless stretching moment - so unbelievable, so ironic, so surreal. Hurry home, lock the door, breathe, laugh, lie to your best friend, cry, throw up, shower, laugh, shrug, think too hard, pack it away, smile.
This is the place where the skeletal beast inside of me reared tall and snatched away my freedom and my joy.
Long fingers and ribs, aching joints, brittle hair.
So much manic energy.
Clarity, silence. Cold.
I should not have come back here. It’s always too late, when I realize these things.
This time I am not alone. I am going to be okay. I fly for home in
And there is a safe place waiting for me there.