Wildfires in the distance,
it is summer
my hands are ants on a keyboard—
I never learned to type,
but I learned to ask questions/
alone, not lonely,
I want human contact,
but not if I can smell it.
I want to imagine that words on a screen can mean,
that love lives in there too—
I shave my head because humidity lives on my top lip,
I am 20/F/L.A.,
because I refuse to say I’m from “La Puente.”
No one gives a fuck about this place,
I am ashamed
that this is where my story became a story—
I am curtains drawn, and Marlboro Reds,
I am broccoli & cheese hot pockets,
I am Kern’s mango nectar,
nectar.
necktar.
nektar: the word is derived as a compound of nek, meaning death, and tar, meaning the ability to overcome.
I toast abundant.
Love comes refined,
in patched holes and ripped pantyhose/
begrimed and messy,
you are scrubbed
and he bleeds easily,
it was only a chat,
it was only a room,
it was only a gaze,
it was only six-years worth
of what youth and a conversation are capable, or culpable
of.
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Jeremiah Michael Mahle
Member Name: ingrid’s bitch
Location: proud of it
Marital Status: see name
Hobbies: cunnilingus
Computers: El Salvador has fruit I’ve never tasted
Occupation: cat petter
Personal quote: she’ll beat you up if I want her too
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