1.31.21

BOOT.S.TRAPS
The heaviest thing I’ve ever carried was the weight of dissatisfaction.

That blundering authoritarian has a way of spoiling the bite off a Georgia Peach.

Thankfully, in my years, be it by wisdom or reconciliation; I’ve learned to keep the keys of expectation in the junk drawer. Same way I make the bed instead of hanging up on my therapist, or cherish the growth spurts of mourning when I taste melancholy on the spoon of lips once scooping innocence and wonder.

We’re aging now. There’s a new generation mocking our skinny jeans and undercuts. Hangovers are daylong companions and his dick is more whiskey than phallus.

I’ve grown a gardens in paces everyone condoned barren. Instead of writing eulogies to crops fallen, I choose to wrap my tongue around the fruit of the thriving. Plums and dill pay no mind to the chard too charred.

11.19.20

BOOT.S.TRAPS
I guess in many ways, I’m learning to be an anchor.

Because I’ve finally realized my life is the size of a crayon box and only I can choose to use every color outside the lines of black and white.

Choosing to believe in something isn’t closing yourself off.
The ocean never stops kissing the shoreline after all.

BOOT.S.TRAPS

11.10.20
operate with love,
sure.
but exercise discernment

be limitless in your love, but know your boundaries
bits and pieces of your heart
collecting dust on someone else’s shelf

take back what’s not wanted, nurse it back to health, and give it away again.

BOOT(S)TRAPS

11.4.20
My eyes have become a ping pong ball between Blue and Red lines.

You’re going to be scared anyway. Might as well have something to show for it. This body of mine may very well become a graveyard of all the lives I’ve lived, so I make it a point to rise every morning without body bags under my eyes.

Let them see the world new, get lost on the same street over, and over, and over, this neighborhood is so beautiful, have you seen?
May I forever wonder if I’m worm, or bird, or both, maybe neither this morning. Maybe I’m weasel, otter, fox, horse, frog, dragonfly, and yeah, some days may I be dragon, or leopard, or beast.

There’s only so many time you can write out fear and anxiety before you take a lesson from your thighs. How they hold eachother like unashamed lovers in a world where everyone is so scared to touch the most human.

I want to be like that. Always touching the parts of myself that keep me in my body. Forgetting what they feel like, and discovering them again. Loving until I don’t, grieving until I can’t, and doing it all over again.

10.16.20

BOOT.S.TRAPS
clocks keep on ticking when you’re sleeping
and im painfully aware of each second

i may be a fool
but i know the invebitibility of humanity

the little trickle of time dedicated for my life is fucking precious
maybe not to you, or the world
but it is to me, and that’s enough

i plan to live every ounce of it in Temperance
in the wisdom of the Fool
that sparks the fire behind the Sun that holds hands with the High Priestess.
this, is how i create The World

no a drop spilled. not anymore.

BOOT.S.TRAPS

10.14.20
How quickly my heart-tides turn;
I have until the hour I die to feel all the things I want to feel, do all the things I want to do, speak all the words I want to say. It sounds less and less fair the older I get, so if you’ll excuse me (this is a polite command, not a request) I’ll be on my way now.

Don’t look at me with war in your eyes. This is a white flag. When you snarl “how many times can your heart break?!” I will bite back with “as many times as it can heal.”

No, I will never hate you. But once you meet people like us, you’ll know there are things in this world that sting more than hate. Hate is anger over something lost, hate is passion, hate is misguided, it’s caring for the wrong things but it is still caring.
Indifference? Indifference is to unkiss, to unremember, to unhold, to undream, to undo everything that ever was and leave smooth stone behind in its wake.

No Fire.

No Earthquakes.

No Fury.

Just, Nothing.

And that is worse than hate.

So, on the days you drag me by the hand, yelling, “This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!”
I will yank my hand back, put it on my heart and say, “No. This is what’s important.”
I’m done playing tug-o-war with ambivalence. You keep your rope, I captain a fine ship without it thank-you-very-much.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.
I pull back because you lack gratitude.

So yeah, it’s personal.

BOOT(S)TRAPS

7.10.20
o you thought this would be easy would ya?
drunk and frivolously sauntering though
your he and her
and he and her man
and her and her
and her and her man
and her and her girl
and them
and them
and them
and you.

you thought you’d be easy
to handle

BOOT(S)TRAPS

5.8.20
fail.
get up.
then fail again.

i do it over and over until i train to take my lessons standing up.

BOOT.S.TRAPS

1.4.19
learning how to walk again
small drops from a faucet
slowly filling at a life line
she’s exhausting
demanding comfort and attention
wanting to know “we” are okay
how can we –
i am not okay
this light you see in my eye is only some firefly
hardly breathing
there’s only so much i can give

BOOT(s)TRAPS – a consolation
12.31.17
now more than ever
i feel the parchment paper tounge
of established comfort-ability.
i’ve made of myself the impossible
the golden minus reaching heights
discovering mountains
conquering lands
turning off calendars with whispers of success
leaping

shaking the year off the leg
not like a bad memory
a stubborn child
a painful sore
more  a dull ache
feeling heavy in the bones
calling for something it doesn’t even know
where it began
or how even
it will end

from bare feet
soles to the dessert spines
i cracked its back into regimen
disciplinary callousness
now laced up
boot-straps true to form
polished click clacking echoing on cement halls
they hear me coming
but i can no longer feel the ground