I’m gleaming… I’m just absolutely hot... I’m glittering… I’m having a recital this evening for the girls, uh, from this town, yeah... I’m gleaming…

Hug my bloodstream, slow my ennui from cranking repeat, my girl got abused by an interesting man, and now I’ll never find anything interesting again… Open my eye beams, cut the light like a deli to cheese, the core of the orange was wilted and gray, when in the living room you said you’d keep my troubles at bay-- But if I told you I felt like it was too late would you know it couldn’t wait, would you see that women are often left behind in this space, he’s charismatic, he’s a good leader, well I’m a good leader too, and I may love you but what’s holding me back is being beholden to you… Hug my bloodstream, I was taught pain this harsh would be brief, but when a friend’s trust has naught to do with your merits, you pay with your sleep for a daytime to bear it… Hold your hometeam, hold her whole like the cliffs their ravine, you want me all worldly and looking my best, but I’m barely lifting my arms to get dressed-- And if I told you I saw him in my nightmares would you vocally support me, or stand with him on some precedent of human complexity, but aren’t I complex too, did that ever occur to you, if you know that we’re equals than why does your mind even have such a backseat… Hug my cumrag, hold the sheet that I have used for three months, I hope to breathe in mud, I don’t hope for bedbugs, I don’t hope for shitstains, I do want your good love… Hold your homegirl, I hope I’m not being too wonky, but I am so terrified, that due to the binary, I’m gonna be left out of my own obituary-- And if officials didn’t know my name would you get it to my grave, if a memory’s what I become would your brain be a safer space, or would you bend me as I broke alive so the truth would hurt you less, that the position that you put me in is inextricable from my death… Back in brighton, me and some friends went to a club, the band was too poppy, but we had fun anyway, we let just the body excite and expound away, some guy saw me, saw my body and he didn’t like it much, I can still feel his invasive touch, and to this very day I still feel like I made it up-- Now what does that say about you and my confidence in you, that in figuring you’ll do nothing my mind erases what it knew, and represses and reproaches little moments and accepts, that a woman’s a leftover even to the fucking left… Hug my blessing, test it out like a lake’s warm edge, I want you to feel me, I want you to hear me, I’m all done pretending, it makes sense to fear me, fear yourself, don’t put that burden on somebody else, lie awake in bed like I had to do for you, like a bubble yet to rise to the surface of a stew-- I remember watching one of my best friends like a sibling turned to husk, every day their look more sunken and their tone bereft and hushed, with their access to the music in their chest cut off by fear, the pain I felt while loving them then will never disappear… I hug that friendship, take a break from you and all of your shit, I know that I trust them and in times when I don’t, I can see in the future the moment I will again, when everything’s still again, when nothing is willed and the water is flowing and loved in its spill, I hug that friendship, I hold to stay sane, the clearest of glass in a mysterious pane-- ‘Cuz what am I to do, when I can’t accrue anymore experiences to combat the solipsism that is holding me in, I’m catting in the heat, wafting at the peat, unable to get out my head, god I wish I were dead, I can’t find what a friend is anymore… Hug my bloodstream… hug my bloodstream...

Non ho mai voluto farmi male usando un amico di cui non potevo fidarmi, ogni volta che ti vedo è come se un diario fosse chiuso intorno al mio midollo, tutte le cose che prendo normalmente diventano segreti, tutte le cose che pensavo fossero profonde e ricche vieni in superficie, cartacei, dicono che l'autocoscienza è il primo passo, ma può essere un passo così lungo, quante volte mi sentirò così prima di non poterlo più fare… Non ho mai voluto vedere lo scintillio nella stella dell'acqua, l'orrenda luce del vento così appropriato male, tutte le cose che una volta erano rare diventano inquietanti perpetue, dicono che l'amore di sé è il primo passo, ma cosa succede se non riesco a capire se sono l'io che lo mette in scena, quante cose posso osservare prima che il cielo diventi un soffitto e l'erba diventi un tappeto… Translation: I never wanted to hurt myself using a friend I couldn’t trust, every time I see you it’s as though a diary is closed around my marrow, all the things I take as normal become secrets, all the things I thought were deep and rich come to the surface, papery, they say self-awareness is the first step, but it can be such a long step, how many times will I feel this way before I can no longer take it… I never wanted to see the glitter in the star of water, hideous light of wind so misappropriated, all the things that once were rare become disturbingly perpetual, they say self-love is the first step, but what if I can’t tell if I’m the self that enacts it, how many things can I observe before the sky becomes a ceiling and the grass becomes a carpet…

I thought your apology was enough, I’ll take that shit and shove it up my cunt, and I don’t even got no cunt, that’s how too small it was enough, you’re not his fucking therapist, you’re his abuse apologist, you’re not his fucking second chance, virtue signaling disguised as romance… Sorry, I’m so sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, to let you go, to leave you alone… I look in the mirror and see the mirror is in back of me, I eat my thighs I suck my cock using two teats from up a trough, I see my vision being obscured by friends who can’t respect my words, I see my nightmares growing wide as all the world I am inside… Sorry, I’m so sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, to let you go, to leave you alone…

God’s antithesis, you figure they can see you from earth, they can’t, they can only see you from hell might as well castrate the pain of anything you’re seeking, there’s rolling admissions to this therapy I found, but it’s all digital, that makes me nervous, how do I cry my eyes out to a screened face, when the lord unmade me, like a fuck-freed motel bed, got the umbilical cord, let slack, uh, he took the wrong word back… he took the wrong word back… Margaret Manhardt: Nessuno nessuno dovrebbe essere lì dentro, è un intero cassetto pieno di nevrosi, dammi solo il tempo di esprimermi, dammi il tempo che daresti a centinaia di persone, tieni presente che andrebbero tutte all'unisono, ho provato a decidere che c'è entropia da nessuna parte, c'è entropia da nessuna parte… (Translation: Nobody nobody should be in there, it’s a whole drawer full of neuroses, just give me time to express myself, give me the time you’d give hundreds of people, keep in mind that they would all be going in unison, I’ve tried to decide there’s entropy nowhere, there’s entropy nowhere…) So now the gut’s creased in my clasped feet, raked in the nape in the name of the street, how do I reclaim such a breadth of variety, how I wish every day that my name could be read in my eyes, it sounds like too much to ask, but what you must understand is I am at a deficit, spent years tryina be understood in a spoken nautilus, yet what remains ain’t a phrase it fits… K.C. Raniero: So average, what time takes, it seems I’ve, lost my place, in the folds and bones of an accordion in the rain, don’t pressure me, a bedroom’s air is wound so tightly, don’t cope and don’t escape for me, it’s a drag to have to explain, that you overshot a friend’s pain… Nightshade: It’s like I need your permission to live, I can feel your resistance to my existence, your hatred I can’t forgive, for every way I felt different, you made me feel small, walking on eggshells, cause I make you uncomfortable, uncomfortable… you can take the wrong word back, and let me go and let me go, you took the wrong word back… you took the wrong word back… Now I guess it’s your job to arrange the pieces, ‘cuz I ain’t got a script, you could ask and I’ll tell you shit, but would you take it serious, ask me what my feeling is, then rush mid-answer into the kitchen to nab a sip, like there’s nothing like a mouth on this, little reminder both of us are spit, and if that doesn’t dance you a little something I’m just gonna get some coffee I’d rather be alone than lonely… if I’m gonna heal then I gotta pick a point and just call it…

If I was your mother, I’d never flee from my contortions… if I was your mother, I’d stop myself from feeling haunted, I’d feel every thought and feeling as living as could be… If you ever felt trapped I’d find a way to use my love to set you free, if you ever felt unreal I’d find a way to use my love to make you feel real again… there just isn’t a world without you in it… If I was your mother and any adult hurt you, I’d show them violence clear out of me, they thought could never leave a movie, if I was your mother and no one had ever known how loved they were, you would be the first… If there’s anyone out there who’s supposed to be loved, I will love them, when you say the word, I will love them at the drop of your mind from mine… and when I let go what do I find… I don’t ever lie to myself and pretend for a second that each day you cease to live, you could be born any day, all that matters to me is the day that we meet I hold you during sleep, so you can dream in my arms, and the softness of my flesh can make your dreamscape so absolutely deeply sweet, such that you know what’s coming, a life in which your mother’s thrumming, just as constant as a heartbeat, so you feel my breathing, we’re just as alive the two sweets… But if we ever had to start over, if we ever had to start over, I would have you first, they would never be full of you, I would have you first, they would never fill up with you… I’ll let you in on a secret, I chose my name in part because it smells like your body coming back to me in a beautiful memory… Do you remember that we have each other? I have you as much as you have me, my daughter and I are equals, my baby and I are equal…

It seeps me out of slumber, and I can’t help but remember, listening to Farrah Abraham on the futon, the day was gray and cloudy, until I played her loudly, and the rumbling in my eardrums turned the sun on, we’re the women of our dreams, if the way our music screams, would purport somehow or other we’re to hurt you, in our vim and vibrant splendor, we’re the fabric of our gender, and we’ll hit return to sender and desert you… Had a half a cup of coffee, and my hair unwashed and sloppy, listening to Farrah Abraham on the futon, how my gutters felt distended, and my sense of self upended, and my hindsight broken down to floam and gluon, felt exhilarated, haunted, by someone doing what they wanted, with no fear of retribution or of pain, with no reference to the plain norm, this was music at its most warm, and the mark of someone radically sane… It sleeps me out of numbers, and I can’t help but remember, listening to Farrah Abraham on the futon, my day was gray and boring, ‘til the music was imploring, that the chemicals inside me turn the fun on...

Amen, amen, amen… He’s inseminating a pal, he’s inseminating a pal, they’ve got the friendship… they’ve got the friendship… they’ve got the friendship-- So who’s gonna inseminate me, no friend of mine’ll do that, who’s gonna put a baby in me, no friend of mine’ll do that, my baby’s gonna get grown without ever having been up in me, my baby’s gonna get big without ever having been inside of me, get inside me honey, no friend of mine’ll do that, get inside me baby, no friend of mine’ll do that, get inside me honey, no friend of mine’ll do that…