to avoid responsibility, i blame my father for everything
instead, i wander through / these desolate streets / broken homes with broken sinks / in search of someone
JAKE
Hestia is Sick of Your Shit
And it’s not that she would mind except for the fact that she’s a goddess, and that heat—which she had so lovingly doted on, coaxing it from the cold stone hearth for thousands of years—doesn’t seem to be enough these days.
Good Hair Day
Last month, I bought a / blow dryer and a round brush.
How to be a daughter
add glitters, / add sprinkles, / add prayers,
Bad Habitus
Dad had developed a taste for tobacco by the time he was 14. It would be a stolid companion throughout his life. As a child, I thought his ability to hold entire conversations with a lit roll-up in his mouth was a kind of superpower.
(IF IT'S NOT LOVE) THE BOMB WILL BRING US TOGETHER
I knew I should have said something then, something to the effect of: I’m sorry. He had not wanted to go to the party, let alone watch the game. Earlier that day lying in bed he had listed reasons why it was a bad idea...
Small Town as The Palimpsest That I Keep Trying to Reset Back to Original Childhood Happiness
Would we have been friends in a different town? / This town is all I have of you now.