jmt1992

jmt1992

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vultures circle my tea & i am postponed from drinking from the well. i take my mouse in hand, and click it, feed it to the vultures who give me nothing but time.

I held a shotgun to my head (like everybody else) but instead of shooting it, I ate it whole. I slipped on wallpaper until my feet could no longer walk. I ate the shotgun and my wallpaper feet were satisfied.

steel

Steel, like wool, I lie naked, a nail on top of a carton of eggs. Slowly, I sift up until I am nothing, everything. In between my toes, I hustle to the next one.

Departure. When we depart for Cambodia, I have no idea how I'm going to feel. Excited, yes. But will my medication be able to come along? I don't know if I'm stable enough for this. I'm not sure if I want to go.

You supported me through everything in your own odd way. When I told you I was bisexual, you thought I had said gay.

The tracking device was imbedded in every person at the time of their birth. It was used to make sure they did everything right. Pay your taxes. Do your chores. Get good grades. One wrong move, and... zap.

slip

When she slipped and fell she wasn't embarrassed. She got up and continued walking down the aisle toward the royals. They would hate her more if she started crying and ran away. Their respect for her was low enough already without her showing such emotions.

we are all one making up the entirety of the universe; we're nothing, we're the same. she sleeps and thinks of fairy queens, and knows the tales are true.

the mechanism by which I write poetry is not my brain nor my heart it's something deeper, something that's not just me, but all everything the mechanism by which I write poetry is the universe, the universal oneness

I hate trumpets: the blaring sound of marching bands where supposedly everyone is a dork but at my school they were all rich in order to afford their stupid trumpets and i hated them especially during the freezing warm performances.

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writing since 2013 · 37 entries · 37 days shown up

each square is a day—lit means Jessica showed up.

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37days written

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on this day 9 years ago

Jessica wrote about shotgun
“I held a shotgun to my head (like everybody else) but instead of shooting it, I ate it whole. I slipped on wallpaper until my feet could no longer walk. I ate the shotgun and my wallpaper …”

the words Jessica reaches for

deadpupilsellingeyessomehowwordsheldideadeeperleasttalesbeyondheaduniversehatewrite