July

it took a long time, October to July

time passed on
photolysis strained
all the keepsakes I've kept
up in my brain
we're just Galápagos birds
our bridges burnt
our world of hurt
took another turn

we made it out
I mean I guess I did
still learning to reminisce
over all the bad things
is that what growing up is?
create fossil fuel
to burn through
and use to paint hues

fill the skies with fake clouds
destroy everything
wipe out all the love
and regrets that could have been
run out, cut through
become powerful enough to
fabricate your own rules
and not care about seeing faces

to construct anew
version of the truth
version of you
to picture hell:
begin at the end
it's the only way to tell
everything

some days the echoes break me
some says they glue me back together

from a time of solitude
to dimly lit rooms in blue
to collecting dust
to poorly recorded music in bedrooms (...I don't know what you're talking about...)

to emotions making a difference
to hunter-gatherers running out
to shitty insecure TERFS and
their shitty manipulative pleas in everyone's dms

to men abusing power in communities
to crumbling pillars of salt
to wounds healing despite all of it
to forced metaphors like post cards with seeds in them

to growth and cocoons and carcinisation
to the blooming of community
to kill your idols, please!
to lockdown and quarantine

to solutions and problems
to bellies full of chia seeds
all the way to digital intimacy
to detuned pianos in agony and Yung Lean references

to hearing footsteps and voices
to being unable to finish your shitty little albums
to making fruitless promises
to frigid bones and leopard skin

to sleepless nights staring into winter sky
to trying to feel alive
to collective loneliness
to deposit into crystalline structure

to minds in amber
to trap some thoughts forever
to never surrender
to violets

some days the echoes break me