bonita.

sometimes i wish i could put my head back against a surface and roll my eyes back really slowly and softly, like some kind of ocular trance condition. I'd groan deeply and gutteral like, almost animal in origin. the foam will pull and lull out of my mouth through gritted and tired teeth, and a slow machine of gyration would work through my chest cavity like some voodoo priestess shaking bone pouches to ward off a tribal war. I wish upon this action, i could reach out to all the ones i love, and all the ones who have seen the mind I've exposed to them, and they would know to listen, and deeply. and when i was collected there in my seat, knuckles now perched in a vulture's gnarl, i would transmit the audio around me, so rich in humanity, and pure untainted comedy. there are things that need to be heard. things that make me regret ever seeing them, because they are being seen alone.

"it was just a reg'lah day. juss a reg'lah day. I didn't feel no way, no body bought me nothin, nobody call me or nothin, it was juss a reg'lah day.

juss a reg'lah. day."

a poem.




I miss all of you.
I'll go foamy for you.