how do i get rid of the memory. and how do i find someone to love that part of me

tangerine whales lunging feathered strips

when everything is like a poem, the real tends to get swallowed by the heart or passion or history to the air or the custard

how i need someone to talk to and im sad even though im doing everything i can not to do so. the rules have been achieved

how i don’t know how to compare real love to what i had becuase i know it wasnt but it was alive even in its death

how i miss fall colors and thunderstorms and my dog roadtripping camp trips

how im looking for someone to magic me the way i do without abuse

how my heart is not free

molten leaves running into the rivers like the ambulance cannot make up her mind

or how love can be wrong

or that wheat and dairy fuck with my mind like the children i see on the streets holding empty cups that need to sleep

like the bruise i have to illustrate to the academics that i do not have syphillus

okay so maybe now i will write about how im pretty alone and how that sometimes is like im scared to get close

i let a french boy use my computer to check his blood type and now all of my search engines are in french. like damn man, télécharger