3:33<\/p>\n
I woke up today. the doves have been here again. the dust told me so,
\noutlining their footmarks, all pointed in a circle with me in the middle.
\nthe window is shut, yet the dust bunnies still sob themselves
\nback to sleep.\u00a0 I clean away the claw marks at the bottom of my bed.
\nI swear they get closer every day.<\/p>\n
but you & me, we\u2019re screaming about a feeling in a june riverbed
\nuntil the crack of dawn, drinking the creek water that\u2019s turned
\ninto wine, our denim dipped legs running as fast as we can,
\nsun-stained on cheeks and shoulders.\u00a0 your momma told you
\nto put sunscreen on those damn shoulders, she\u2019ll beat some more
\nof your skin raw when you get home, so much so that it\u2019ll peel up
\njust to run away. or maybe she won\u2019t, i hear she\u2019s been trying
\nto act real good since the Lord is coming home, the preacher
\nis awfully excited. and holding hands with you is like
\nholding a dog\u2019s tongue, sticky and unclean,
\nbut I\u2019ll be holding this dog\u2019s tongue till the end of my days.<\/p>\n
eyelashes and dandelion puffs fly through the air,
\ncarrying all of our wishes with them. I laugh. \u201cI bet God\u2019s eyelashes
\nare made of ours, and he uses these dandelion puffs for nose hairs.\u201d
\n\u201cdon\u2019t be silly,\u201d you say, \u201cGod doesn\u2019t have nose hairs.
\nhe\u2019s too respectable for that, bet he has a beard or somethin\u2019.\u201d
\nall our wishes rise up to the air, but the clocks are chiming loud,
\nthe loudest they ever have, and the dandelions are crying.
\nthey beg, \u201cGod, we can\u2019t hear you, we\u2019re lost.\u201d
\nthe clocks beat them down right out of the sky.
\nchiming, it\u2019s 3:33. halfway to evil.<\/p>\n
laughing, tongues out, pink where the sun can\u2019t lick.
\nGod, this wine is great, isn\u2019t it?
\nI forgot how to eat honeysuckle. I scream at the top of my lungs,
\n\u201cI bet those angels have a thousand teeth and two jaws,
\nthree jaws, even.\u201d (I eat the flower whole. that\u2019s right, right?)
\nyou spit. \u201cjaws, what do they need jaws for, I don\u2019t think angels
\nchew tobacco.\u201d the dove behind you winks.<\/p>\n
but I\u2019ll never forget when we turned around too quickly
\nand for a second, saw us, everywhere, with new colors
\nI\u2019d never even imagined. us, like ghosts, haunting ourselves.
\ndo you think this wine is getting to me? I don\u2019t think
\nI\u2019ll ever remember how to eat honeysuckle again.
\nI pet the dove beside me. \u201cwhat are you gonna do
\nwhen the sky falls out, buddy?\u201d it laughs right in my face
\nand asks me, \u201cwhat are you gonna do?\u201d its teeth
\nare a whole new color I\u2019d never seen before in my life.<\/p>\n
the window is on the other side of the room now, isn\u2019t that funny?
\nand I\u2019ve got a stepdad, but my dad never even left.
\nAll the universes are running together, everything is ripping apart.
\nthere are some days that I have blue hair\u00a0 and some days
\nthat I do not know you and some days where my leg lays
\non the other side of the room. But it is every day
\nthat the dust bunnies lay decapitated on the floor.<\/p>\n
I tried turning around too fast again today. it wasn\u2019t black.
\nit was nothing, like the universe was a little slow to put on a show.
\nI watched as the rocks tied to the river, seams being sewed together,
\nwatched as you were sown together, piece by piece.
\nyou tried telling me I blinked. you knew I hadn\u2019t.
\nI don\u2019t think I\u2019ve closed my eyes for days,
\ntoo scared they\u2019ll get sown together.<\/p>\n
and I\u2019m screaming in these july riverbeds, screaming, we\u2019ll die here.
\nwe won\u2019t make it, stuck between makeout rock and home,
\na dove footprint stained on my forehead.
\nswimming in lakes\u2014 the water that\u2019s breaking me, me and my levies\u2014
\nand I sob. I don\u2019t want to drink wine anymore.
\nokay, you say. no more drinking wine.<\/p>\n
the stars start falling out of the sky. I hold a dog\u2019s tongue.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
3:33 I woke up today. the doves have been here again. the dust told me so, outlining their footmarks, all pointed in a circle with me in the middle. the window is shut, yet the dust bunnies still sob themselves back to sleep.\u00a0 I clean away the claw marks at the bottom of my bed. … Continue reading “I can’t stop writing about the world ending. I’d like to pretend that it doesn’t mean anything.”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":28,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3185"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/28"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3185"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3185\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3196,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3185\/revisions\/3196"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3185"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3185"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3185"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}