8
Cut off my pinky finger to summon the genie that gets girls what they’ve always wanted
Dear Diary
December 12, 2022
Girl anticipates nostalgia for so long that she never comes to experience it
Nostalgia forgives,
she couldn’t
I uploaded my brain to the cloud last night.
it floated away
The girl scanned the sky for miles
she drifted and weaved in fogged air
touch was softening
she heard a pixel crush
It was the last night on earth
We packed our belongings and moved to the internet
Her brain moseyed on, lifted by her absence
7
Aging is realizing I’ll only get to have this set of teeth.
6
I see my Grandpa on the street almost every day- men wearing 1970s era Pirates jerseys, the specific designs are recognizable to me from blocks away through a bus window down the street. Brooklyn is full of Puerto Ricans that love baseball and miss, dearly, Roberto Clemente (RIP). Papa, the Italian as Clemente called him, slumps head over neck bent in a wheel chair at Providence Point. His brain before dementia signals me, and another number 21 Pirates jersey ghosts past me on the sidewalk.
He mistakes me for his eldest daughter, we have similar hair nowadays. He remembers the 1970s.
5
“A wise man once said nothing”, said a girl to an audience that included me on tiktok.
4
A different breed of cockroach moved into my bedroom last night. Flew in around 9:15, kept flying around, hissing at us, not very polite. I definitely did not invite him over…
3
Each time I glare at the problem, the mold in the cracks in the ceiling waves, kindly. I see it going down on me in visions that have feelings. Scared is wrong, it’s known risk and hope it’s only the harmless-type of mold and vanity damage.
2An owl lives behind my building in bushwick. We met in April. 1Navigate immeasurable, formless places with an intuitive compass. Use questions a posture. Making marionettes of me with sun burn and bikini line triangles of lesser tanned pink fat. My bedroom is outside and there’s a window in the sky and a book to read in the grass. I brought my lamp with the purplish plastic gemstone dangles on it.
To become a romantic, push your bed into the pasture and don’t get out of it, the seasons will weather.
and then I realized the cockroaches has probably begun to eat each other…thank you, issyinspired by issy wood’s queenbaby.org and committothedish.co.uk