I’m not turning thirty
I’m just two fifteen-year-olds living inside each other
trying to get high
in the foetal position, being
summer denim of wanting to crash a pink car and
be done again
slightly out of sync
blossomability
many circus strays
coming apart at the seams
feeling gloam and yogic
the dog licking peanut butter from deep in the jar
of common nutrient
lightning burst out my early life
gone clown anon
bright and soundproof
strawberry motorway moon
more on earth than ever
*
Covet the pearl zone
for perfect touch, the greatest football hits of oblivion
screaming at each other why not
call out the willowy you
being louche as hell
shedding the
water weight
wearing grave emoji
things I can’t say
discard complete water works
total my carless mind
in prairie physiology
crying wild lupine
lucky girl
*
Roleplaying cuddlecore
applying emotional topcoat
I want to sabotage language at source
invincible in supercrush
scoring a hat-trick
forget chapped lips
stop being the autodidact
shoving vending machines into communism
“Yes,” said everything, “wait and see.”
Hope unlocked streets of it
seeing myself grown backwards
spiral of childhood computer realism
beautifully archived cloud formation
having lemonade with them
*
I want to learn natural breath talent like
effortless summer quantum
angel chancellery of Harriet Wheeler
the fractal age of being remembered
love thirty
simulates
living in time-
sensitive seedballs
winning the main affection
your aura an orange-tipped butterfly
knows me imago-
formed at the middle
hot pyramidal orchid
nutrient poor
never leaving your chrysalis
I would give a whole voice, gold shining sounds
in the gorse mandy
glow up
for gemini life cycle
link in biome
all nerve
heavenly
electropolis
in bath spider soliloquy
how do I eat
*
Turning thirty
in permanent acoustic mutability
pushing my name down the stairs
it’s funny and sad
like television lacunae
or oestradiol credit score
a feel good
pulse ballet of love inclination
*
Being mortal goldilocks
awake forever warm and moreish
sometimes I forget
we held each other
meadow-wise
blemished white lies and cowslip
nights of insane fertility
gentler than a blood result mood boost
born in the year of In Utero
Saturn returns
sirens
at the back of cinema
*
When I can’t replicate
being the same two ages
everything will be
okay
and windswept so
totally interesting
pretty void bluet
drinking a case of Sundays
prom waltzing myself
back to bed in each stanza
one of us says to the other
about that pain in our side
“who bruised you?”
mariaology 