Permanent Illusions

the fingers slithered
from the breast bone to the pelvis.
There was no grabbing, just feeling,
skin electrified.
” It was a Queer and sultry summer,
the summer they electrocuted…”
Life gets in the way of magic,
If you gloss over the sentence,
It disappears into oblivion.
So where did he go?
When I put so much emphasis on his presence?
A series of flashbacks appear:
snapchat, bed, eyes,
Am I at a point of death?
or perhaps life flies…
there is a light
but it leans on my desk
perhaps I shouldn’t follow it.
Heat protrudes out of the core
as he held me.
And as I lay I dreamt of his disappearance.
Woke up and he was still there.
What a bad game, my mind plays.
Poof, its the next day,
the dice won’t stop spinning
the magic has worked.
He is just an image ingrained in my head.


This is the world:

A pink cup, full of a brown drink

a hand, with an appearing bruise

eyeliner, and lips

a deep desire

for someone to hold,

words that come together

through force and reason

books long read

on a bookshelf full of dust:

the bell jar

Mrs. Dalloway


Dreams long forgotten.

A hand holding a cigarette

forgetting the name

of the last lover.

This is the world

both meaningless and meaningful

Title and Registration -Death Cab for Cutie is my heartbreak

“In psychology, memory is the process in which information is encoded, stored, and retrieved. Encoding allows information from the outside world to reach thefive senses in the forms of chemical and physical stimuli. In this first stage the information must be changed so that it may be put into the encoding process. Storage is the second memory stage or process. This entails that information is maintained over periods of time. Finally the third process is the retrieval of information that has been stored. Such information must be located and returned to the consciousness. Some retrieval attempts may be effortless due to the type of information, and other attempts to remember stored information may be more demanding for various reasons.”


I lit the cigarette

put on lack of color

stared into the darkness

and found memories of you.

Why does memory,

haunt me:

The mexican coca Cola,

the weird little video game

that we’ll never complete,

the glitter room

from gratitude.

The liberation that I found

once in your arms.

The dumplings that

I didn’t eat,

your dumb cat

who scratched me,

The walls of a room

so similar

it felt mine,

traded for loneliness

for some freedom

that never existed.

There was no goodbye,

Just my hand and a hang up.