An Ode To A White Claw Shoved In The Back Of The Fridge

An ode to a white claw shoved in the back of the fridge

Wow

It's you

That object of my deepest most secret desires

I swear no one has ever felt longing like this longing I feel for you

It seems to permeate like the summer sun

Or the winter wind

The way it fills me

The way you fill me

This dreaming of you

Like a cancer it corrupts my mind till all i can articulate is my wanting for you

i actually really enjoy when people leave random objects in art galleries and people start treating them as if they're art. I think it puts people into a headspace where they start looking at normal objects differently and its an opportunity for them to realize that they can do this too outside of a gallery setting. You're not dumb or tricked for seeing something on the floor of a gallery and trying to figure it out or appreciating it as an art object. The world is full of beautiful and interesting objects even some random garbage on the street is worthy of that same level of examination. Theres art everywhere if you're primed to see it.

"preheat"? dude i dont even HEAT my oven. thats right. im cooking my shit coldstyle. im stretching the definition of "cooking" far beyond its ultimate tensile strength. my chicken breasts are the most gorgeous pink color you've ever seen. they look like rosebuds on the very cusp of blooming. they look like the dawn when you're in love. hospital.

this is going to have me on my hands and knees dry heaving

sometimes person

i wonder if maybe manipulation is a natural part of my communication style

just another language i learned which although lacking in malice is no less unkind

short lived loves living in storage stacked ceiling-high

but I don't mind the temporary nature of the things i feed my heart

i play part-time partner particularly enthusiastically

let me treat you right for a moment cuz a moment is all I've ever had

being a sometimes person means I'm good at temporary

tempestuous trysts and dangerous dalliances keep killing my kindness

causing cracks in cold facades

features flitting from face to face fighting for freedom from fear, frustration, and longing

life, love, hard liquor and soft luxury

i replace all of these things with the poetic royal you

you the reader

you the scorned lover let down lightly alongside leather combat boots

bringing butchered beasts and(broadly speaking) bristly sing-song to my step

several lovers stated separately something which seriously stuck to this day

i am uncomplicated

don't you dare deny my defects

I'll disregard the defiance decisively for now

but between not noticing the never evers and saying something so suspiciously off base

believe me it's better to be brought along abreast against the brown feathers of tomorrow then brought beating and bawling from below to yesterday

childhood is captivity

An older boy asks me if i want to play a game

I don't remember the end of this story but I know how it ends

Childhood is captivity

I come to in a dark house

My hands and feet are covered in blood

I don't remember how this story begins but i know how it started

Childhood is captivity

The overarching theme of my youth and young adulthood is fear

The cage I outgrew had four walls and a brown panel door

The cage that outgrew me was a line of trees i was far too afraid to pass

Childhood is captivity