hagsonline

[hagsonline]

September 29, 2018 - rhonda

written on the dancefloor of rhonda. i think there are at least two poems in here, perhaps even three.

square and brown and shiny

the cellophane and the caramel

red lights trapped in brown bottles warning

there are the girls who slip away with water

who trace the women they want to become in order to become

and there are the women who are rounded and permanent

as much as music contains coor

the siren’s song is lilac

and she floated above us all glittering fatally

#diary

[hagsonline]

crown

i want to be pumped full of ink

i want to be riddled with holes

and then bare my teeth

delight

because finally

 i am ruined

#poem #wip

[hagsonline]

night slut

the moon is a woman  

but the night is a man

specifically, a faggot

all that drama

he comes warm tonight

slipping into me quietly

paramour in a cape

soon the moon is full

and I am too

and with his magic inside me

i reach around

and grasp it

my shadow

and i beat it

and i knead it

and i shape it

into the person tomorrow i will rise and become

#poem

[hagsonline]

x

i am thinking about my father who spread his legs when he sat

and my mother who did not

and me, 

before, 

who crossed my legs.

crossing and crossing and thinking:

with enough power

with enough force 

the interruption between me

might vanish

#poem #draft #gender dysmorphia #father #mother

[hagsonline]

among the corsets

pretty

not like in the movies

in the way that several men

in college

had probably written poems about her

and i try to locate myself 

in the curve of her hair

or the bridge of her nose

as i often try to locate myself in pretty women

but i am not there

#poem #quick #journal

[hagsonline]

width

i want to be poured into a smaller glass

whatever spills out

perhaps it never belonged

to begin 

#body dysmorphia #gender dysmorphia #poem #journal

[hagsonline]

mr

he is small, but he is there

a knot behind my spine

i do not notice until I try

to sit up straight

#poem #journal

[hagsonline]

gold fish

1

a light can leak from half lidded eyes wrapping everything in shiny plastic turns moments to Memories, to Keepsakes

2 Nostalgia is a clear blue pond filled with flitting gold fish not goldfish but scaled warm water bodies that just so happen to be golden

3 a gentle warning: sit by that pool too long under the setting sun, rimming everything, even the fish, in gold making them all the golder and you may think to drink from that pool

drink

drink

drink

and if you continue to drink once the sun has sunk away drink too long and too deep you may sink into a sort of Delirium waking up elsewhere wrapped in plastic

a note: if wrapped in plastic, in order to breathe, one must wiggle their tongue and bare their teeth thereby creating a hole through which to exchange Air

4

5 where have you been?

6 i miss you

7 you've been going to the pool every day, haven't you?

8 you've been drinking into the night too long, too deep haven't you?

9 You've woken up Memorializing yourself.

"What is so artificial about an artificial embrace" you are thinking as you lie, not quite alone, in bed, the cling wrap pulling you tight "Plastic is permanence" And permanence, you think, is a gift.

10 humans can only swallow so many memories you cannot survive on your own waste

(you are not a Memory you are not a Keepsake you are not a Gold Fish)

you will     vomit them all up or     expire or     crust over in shiny hard...

but there may be something waiting for you in the future you need to breathe something shinier than plastic you need to wiggle your tongue something more solid you must bare your teeth something even golder

#poem

[hagsonline]

Edward Steichen was taken by the beauty of delphiniums and hybridized many new varieties at his Connecticut farm. This photo is from the 1940s.

[hagsonline]

‪i remember teaching myself to fall asleep hungry ‬

‪folding my restless stomach into something square ‬—

curling around the hole in my center

‪— and placing it beneath my head like a pillow ‬

#poem #rushed

[hagsonline]

winter 2013

written (while drunk (?)) in the spring of 2013 about the friends of a boy i liked then and am dating now. i don’t know what the last three lines mean anymore. 

it doesn’t feel like they’re dancing for the sake of dancing. there’s something hard and ugly there and poorly gilded. it feels like they’re dancing in the face of something much more tragic. dancing around the fires of their own self-destruction -- their eyes not on the flame, but on their own gyrating shadows. 

1703 2nd floor

poetry diary

jared

#diary

[hagsonline]

brown and red

eyes ring red

red rings

     cheap wood

     old glasses

     dark bottles

at the bottom of a poem

looking up

#drunk #diary #122817 #poem

[hagsonline]

september 2017

something shifted and i loved myself again. 

#diary

[hagsonline]

10/14/17

batman: the animated series, the critically acclaimed television show from 1992 is a treasure trove for storytellers and art makers. One thing I’ve learned when researching the show is that unlike most animated shows, drawn onto white paper, #btas was drawn onto black. You feel it when you watch the show -- the darkness behind all things: 

I think that’s how I write. And why I struggle to write lighter fare. I can layer light onto a dark page, but the opposite...

It’s probably something fundamental about my worldview. The world is a place of darkness where, sometimes, frequently even, good occurs -- but all over a backdrop of dark, chaos. I don’t begrudge the dark. It’s familiar. Chaos, a constant. Idk. Rambling, but i thought I should get this down.

#diary

[hagsonline]

night film (pt. one)

so blue it’s black or

so black it’s blue

and violet

the feel of violence

the feel after a Day --

snakes slide onto dark roads at night

to take their heat

to rest

and gaze through glass eyes

#poem

[hagsonline]

on the internet

you’re so beautiful that you make me feel bad about myself

#diary

[hagsonline]

(on) adulthood

will look like a pet snake and a bedroom filled with mannequin parts

#diary #thoughts