substantive.material
geography as a bassline.
edited our peace after mourning…
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-4:37

edited our peace after mourning…

and my hope is, you have space for it.

welcome,

it has been a struggle with moments of retreat. a time to pull yourself together and move onward. the search for work, the search for housing, the search for ways to love “in. spite. of…” we wanted so much from this life and caring for loved ones including ourselves has burned our candles at both all of the ends until we are a cinder puddles who smell of appropriated hope languished with meditation and prayer. we are unfulfilled residue that lines empty containers of what was… [t]here.

we live across bodies, oceanic and continental, only to discover us as non-citizen. it has become obvious that care only occurs between you, me, and us and not with country, state, or city. we want to say “community” and find fuckery in the articulation. we have only asked, begged, pleaded at the steps of power to allow us to live as love without a condition of servitude. we want to live, love, and be loved without the economics of pledging allegiance.

we wrote, sarah played guitar, we wrote more, i spoke, and here we are. maybe this is a sad moment where we are allowed to be sad. where we are allowed to spiral more than we intended. we find ourselves overlooked, overbooked, and over all. of. it.

…and still in it.

finance c.r.e.a.m. ruins everything.

we have spoken,

quincéy.


Flamboyant Divine

i am flamboyant

you are divine

I wish both were a drink

a potion we could drink

and toast to all that

could have been

such barbarism

savaged into civilization

now regarded as elegance

when aesthetics betrayed us

fallen consumed reluctant fire

A reluctant fire

They didn’t mean to set things ablaze

    but here we are.

Consumed with deciphering ash

         asking questions such as

why we smell of smoke,

will plants grow here, again?

I hurt and

                 you will never touch flames.

in tension in strife

bore without length

heft set forth borrowed burrowed

thermostatic pressure read

temperature indicated rage

our wilderness burned for one

thousand years until

                 its thirst quenched

gasping in air’s smoke

inhalation tastes of nostalgia

A heart wonders and takes deeper breaths in a realm far from this one.

We wandered far,

now gasping for air, here -

     a simulated breathing,

     a contemporary ending,

     a poisoned engagement.

I tripped on the starting line,

shot’s fired into oblivion.

I burned for you.

i tried to stop. restrained myself with ropes, bound with hooks and hung from anchors. muffled my words until articulation was low-frequency sound art absent design’s intention toward solution. even i wanted no more to do with it. left the room into an outside who continued for days until weeks were months between us. where distance turned into years when i opened my eyes. i tried to stop. wrapped myself up, confined my movements. until i was pillar, until i was foundation, until i was no more of this... hope. until the thought of understanding left me for good, not forever. understanding left me for better, for more clever, a wittier sage. someone who wrote them in every word and spoke with deeper tones. who craved their spotlight, when they longed for famous... i bargained for infamy. who wants celebrity, when history can question your existence. and i was here. inscribed into an ether whose timeline ends, where our universe tried and stopped. matter is such indifference.

to walk into and through this world unaffected by

the side-eyed, heard whispers, and sucked teeth

of judgment.

how do we walk with each other into oblivion?


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