hiding in poetry

eyedrops 1

02.02.2022 22:30h, 初二 of the lunar new year

in poetry i can hide in my vagueness. in my vagueness it is not clear to you if what i’m writing is good or bad, and it doesn’t matter, nothing counts. as long as there’s one phrase that hits you and you get a whiff of something. as long as i feel like what i wrote was somewhat of an out breath. my goals are unclear, no thesis, no rules, just write something that feels right. type and type and type until some combination is exhaled…

tie dyeing, noticing numbers, bouncing jokes off one another and then laughing really hard, view of the low sky, leaning into your style, leaning into your no-style, keeping your materials messy and your tools clean, sipping on hot water, in unit laundry, tiktok recaps, blanking out as self care, eyedrops, muscle memory, endless cycles of self forgiveness, organized mess.

i look like me when i wear a mask and when i take it off. i am pretty when i wear make up and when i don’t. i am me if no one ever sees my face again, and i am me if a million people are staring at my face at the same time. my hair is mine when it feels weird and when it feels just right. everything that i have done, i have done. everything i haven’t done, i haven’t done. this is it… what have we all been doing in life? being fans…

“Give me a mask to put my face in. A mask to put over my other mask. What do I care if some curious person sees my flaws? Let this mask, with its black eyebrows, blush for me.” — a quote i have thought about for years and years, from a polish isolation bandcamp release

do whatever makes you comfy,
mad