Rec
✏️
let me be still
on a monday morning
you
try to push me out
but
i’m not ready yet
I like this canal
or, cavity
it’s warm and not as wet as where you want me to be i’m a part of you why do you wish to expel me? to send me down like Flushed Away but i’m no Shane Ritchie
no, i’m your garbage from somewhere else in your body with someone else in your body
i’m just a waste (of time) give me a place (no grime) of permanence
- poop, forever in motion
it’s warm and not as wet as where you want me to be i’m a part of you why do you wish to expel me? to send me down like Flushed Away but i’m no Shane Ritchie
no, i’m your garbage from somewhere else in your body with someone else in your body
i’m just a waste (of time) give me a place (no grime) of permanence
- poop, forever in motion
Feb 1, 2024
Related Recs
Rec
🪱Tightly drawn smiles
Loosely fitted
Scrubbing the drain, circling it even
Settling dust
Yearning for movement
A force of nature
An action plan, a family man
Laying down foundations
For impersonations
Renting down the river,
Winding up a creek
With two fists
To open my favourite window
And forget to close it
Letting the debris in
If bin lorries could tell stories
They'd sleep in an unmade bed every night
Wednesday morning, mother's warning
The man walks his dog
Through oppressive heats
And violent winds
Why can't you do the same?
Stop seeking answers
And seek a home
Stay there, stay away
The pegging to clothesline pipeline
Against brick walls
My balls bounce and fall
A pinch and a tuck never hurt much
But where do I lay my head at night?
How many mistakes
Should I contemplate
Were the force of nature
Blowing out my last birthday candle
With a giggle
A tightly drawn wiggle
A master of mimicry
But I know you, I see you
Your silk cocoon
Never strung for permanence
Your writhing
In step-by-step conniving will
End when you wake
To find yourself decaying
Stuffed in your rotten beanpod
Full of somebody else's shit
You never open the window, you see
Rec
😃Poem I wrote a bit ago when I was loathing LOL🕺
~~~~~~~ Im spectating myself, on the screen distorted and displaced
I’m half rendered, crude and unfinished
his hands repeat the same motions playing a mortal game with himself entranced by a saccharine glow
his body corrupts and transmutes into thread and dead skin it’s silken fingers clutching and restraining his appendages he stares at me, with deliverance inscribed in his pupils
I’m a doll in its embrace I don’t want to leave its breast
but I know I’ll wake up tomorrow with concrete in my lungs and ribs of rebar.
~~~~~~~ Im spectating myself, on the screen distorted and displaced
I’m half rendered, crude and unfinished
his hands repeat the same motions playing a mortal game with himself entranced by a saccharine glow
his body corrupts and transmutes into thread and dead skin it’s silken fingers clutching and restraining his appendages he stares at me, with deliverance inscribed in his pupils
I’m a doll in its embrace I don’t want to leave its breast
but I know I’ll wake up tomorrow with concrete in my lungs and ribs of rebar.
May 8, 2025
Rec
we’re careening— well, that
sounds dramatic. not
careening— but
sliding, holding you
and myself in place—
because my disposition
leads (and has always led)
to believing abandon reckless
will kill if I let it as close
as myself and yourself
held only by bicycle rope
or kayak rope or moving box rope
side beside inside truckbed
backseat forgone
throats slicked with City of Roses
forest gin and Artemis Moons
I’m sober and you’re not
I’m anxious and you’re not
you’re carefree spit-balling
about side parts and
saying love and love
as we pass long-haul truckers—
eyesclosed Lyft drivers—
that pinkie-promise
coworker to fast friend
elbow to elbow
barefoot to clogs
off in the cab
shallow river dipping
mask off cheek pinch
I-tell-everyone-you’re-my-cousin
kind of love
that no mother could ever
that no father could ever
that kind of love
that door we kicked
down and threw into that
mustard bonfire of before
that old worthless hinge
don’t work so won’t bother
not ever not now
not in this truckbed—
I toss my thoughts to traffic
fine me $900 for littering
lock me up for language
you say what a beautiful city
my glasses are in my pocket
those empty offices
stacked apartments and
windowbeam glitterblurs
fall into the nightvoid
I’ve seen beautiful and more unmatched in those words you weave so keep weaving them—
I’ll be here listening long after we pull into the driveway.
(& if u like it, I linked my poetry newsletter :)
I’ve seen beautiful and more unmatched in those words you weave so keep weaving them—
I’ll be here listening long after we pull into the driveway.
(& if u like it, I linked my poetry newsletter :)
May 14, 2024
Top Recs from @poop
Rec
💩it’s honestly really nice like a spa. Im stinky so it feels nice to be ”clean”, tho tbh that’s just a social construct like im literally a piece of shit how am I supposed to be clean. i’m made of garbage.but whatever.