Things change.


i
start with
a
thought
and end with
a slice
of pie.

"That's not for eating!"

my ideas slipp on ice.
It's winter out side,

"WHY SHOULDN'T they."

they fall into nooks
(and out of books)
and into grannies
filled with wrinkly
old crannies.

"I'll pay you a dollar if you let me clean your ears!"

ancient cest pools of tea, laden with rice milk float about my room.
Im begging to see a chain, like the gummy part of the nerds rope.

fart,
flaunt
shake
bake,
rattle
my brain
with equations,
cant lift
my butt off
the ground
to get to
the math
help room
or tell aidan
to shut it.

all differnt colors as well. i know i'll place them in catagories.

feeling1: crumbling toadstools mushrooms and bananabread kid i ment in october of jesses year octopus, milks itchy feeling when my feet smell, hugging my mom, lumbering down the stairs with a handover, certa foam mattresses, chalk, BASES.

feeling2: peach pitts dentist trips kristie dehond, levers, dildos, kink that(some sex) stinks, jewelery, hard grapes, stethascopes, braids and denomanators/fractions, math.

feeling3: dust, spinning, gods, taking a shit,finishing first, hitting pucnhing kicking biteing. dogeing , laughing, laughing laughing yeeses, secrets, highlighters and astrology.

feeling4: drills, sex, squeezing, controlling relationships, abandonment, dad, tightness, lightening, other couples, sweat beads, sports bras, eating apples, smelling cunt, feeling vulnerable in the best possible way.

-this has to be edited a bit some arnt in the right place and i need to think about more carefully- i tried to organize for you a picnic of me maybe?