Grasshopper/NOBODYLO




Content Warning: suicidal ideation, disordered eating


“NOBODY LOVES ME. I’m going into the garden
to eat worms. Yesterday
I ate two smooth ones and one wooly one.” 



1.

if i am obsessive about people ? (K. Plant: “I keep thinking this person will save me”    is   it
___? )  I never know what to do with new information. if I am treating you poorly ? Would you
tell me if I asked ? Setting limits like, don’t text them today, determining,            if i am a
good person     if i am to be tolerated
 

Let’s be clear. I Don’t Want To Die.
but.
small wish hadn’t seen the car          dry cattails the hot grasses
To be layers of sweaters, a pile that got up and walked away. I don’t trust my own reasoning,
but which side  am   i   on


Am I walking away, a pile of wool sweaters shuffling off into the heat? Plopping into the fat
Atlantic, all heavy knit fabrics all salty and sloppy


this mole nestled below earlobe. my mother, my brother, me.
if I am an alcoholic who never touched a Substance? is it    ? ( & what does that mean to people
who have touched & am i offending & when do i earn it)


& when can i call myself Struggling With Mental Illness






2.

Leafy. This town, a rollerrink on a round bug. Somewhere in Wisconsin a fresh mosquito landed on my writs, my wists,     wrist. Performed
magic against me there, its feet dug in my landscape, in the ripped trough of my skin. I am
being literal here.


It is beautiful, so beautiful, enjoy it. Why can’t you just


How does inherited trauma work? Were those years of nightmares an expression of the
genes? The abuse my parents endured and did not tell me   ?
What is anxiety and what is intuition and what
what is imagined



i THINK i am losing weight
it is NOT a good thing

What is a wish and
an excuse ?


YOU SHOULD KNOW :   I’m taking steps.






3. 

Caught Between:
Dying (famine)                                 Living (famine-wrecked)
The Wind Tunnel Of My Body         Tournicate Earthquake
sorry,                    sorry,                     sorry,                    sorry.
Amilying
        J e n n i f e r  1  & J e n n i f e r  2  a t  B r u n c h
                                                                        but not gender
nu                                                                                     ance



I want to be legible, but I don’t know what that looks like






4.  

I’d eat my leg over that. Over being confused for

If you’re __________ _ __ , I’m
Wretched, in mirror, see ribs, see bones, wonder if I’m (not)
the only one seeing that. Sometimes
I’d like to grab hold of a pull chain and swing myself
right into a tree.


Soft       Soft   brain       drinking only honey,

please,

I spun, locally,
Driving through baby corn, the Sky is yellow, then morose, then full of light. I tumble headfirst into rain so fierce I shake in my bucketseat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat splat and i don’t want to die, i really don’t want to crash the car Quarter-nylons in lilac might be the answer. This person might be the answer. Maybe if I can just always be together, mindmeld out of myself maybe then.


MAYBE THEN WHAT ???????






5. 

Is!
This!
The!
Show!
Now!?


There I was, wandering around the city, big city, busy city, hostile city, windy and tuff and yuppy city, wandering around, collecting foods that I c ould n ot eat, like jewels I could not look at for their brightness. 

If this turns into a poem, who am i?

I scratch my leg, and the itch blooms.
When I look down the road I see a big question mark in the shape of suicide.
Not really, not really, not really, not really


____________ it’s fine


Watermelon, coming on too strong. (I’m a)

Stooohhhhhlen. Stohlenboy.

The lamp, a flashlight below drawing of a penguin. the room is a horror story & I’m the
screamer. the penguin is the real boy.


be etle body


over
analyzing, beetle hiding
in the green twigs poppy buds, theese is my terms:
roots, bitter orange, mouldy soil smell, i bury the tendons behind my kneecaps
khnow there will be noh grohth
                    you       are       not       a           part       of       me     ,              yet
                    i have never could distinguish, &
                    under  what   category
                    do      you       call      me       healthy

  !?

bodies i would rather:
            b eeeeee   tle
            slyme toy
            tulle umb rell
            whisp ghohst
            laaahvendr
            curta in
            s od ium 


This one;
    irreparable fickle beast
    a nd o v e r
    tulle sh e ll
    hea rt      i do not know
    fin grs piecing through
    st ick y s l o p p y knots
    wet noodles


                    where
                    do      you       think      you       are      going


shoes of nuts and leaves
shoots of parsley
i usually just fight at my own expense,
seethe slips into my muscles &
i           cook           myself