i wanna lie on a trampoline in the summer with you
this seems more romantic than most things
there will be fireflies in the bushes
and we will kiss a little
and feel good about the bouncy surface
i wasn’t feeling sad when i started writing this
but now for some reason i am
oops. buzzed my hair.
i am smoking my last cigarette.
this depresses me.
what also depresses me is my whole life.
my sister is moving to madison in three weeks and i am scared shitless
because she makes me so happy
and she will still make me happy when she is gone
and i will write her letters
and skype with her when i’ve had a lot of beers
and text her when she’s drunk and laugh at how horrible her conversation skills are
and still love her so much, from 328 miles away.
i have finished my cigarette, and my tears are frozen to my face.
because it is cold in minnesota
but it’s cold in Madison, too.
i think that when two ghosts fall in love, it just sounds like a whisper. i also am worried that if you were to cut me, maybe to see if my blood was sick, only sand would pour out. or maybe nothing at all. what kinds of things do glass girls keep in them? there is a boy in my algebra class and his name is Basil and he is very nice but i wish he drank because i want everyone to be as terrible as me. i hope i am still your favourite accident! i am very hungry and i know that at some point last night, i dreamt i was in one of those big houses, one with a green door. i am thinking a lot about a lot:
i don’t know if you panic on the phone by Casey Ashman
Casey Ashman explains the migratory habits of the heart. Besides being a pulsing thing in one’s chest the heart is a bird. After someone dies the heart flies out of the body. The heart soars to the clouds to search for other hearts. Hearts are social birds. No heart wants to be alone. Building nests with other hearts is crucial. Years of research show that hearts enjoy taking care of their young together. Wingspans are an important part of the heart. Sometimes the heart can glide there with little effort at all. Other times in turbulent weather the heart beats so hard. The heart’s song is said to be one of the most beautiful songs of all birds yet it sounds different to every listener. No two heart birds sing the same song though when hearts mate they reproduce the sounds if not the song.
Twitter looks like reality. Casey stays under the covers. Hiding away from reality is usually easiest in bed. Sleep has its own peculiar logic. Underneath the covers writing can persist. Casey almost forgets what Twitter looks like which is highly unfortunate. With Twitter people can communicate without their parents seeing a thing. That’s the beauty of Twitter: parents still have no idea on how to use it. Facebook has seen parents invade it. Good thing Twitter remains off limits to all but the most tech savvy of parents.
Flowers can’t be everywhere. Winter kills off the flowers. Grey invades the world with the cold. Cold and grey enjoy frolicking with each other. Springtime ruins their fun. As the first hints of color emerge from their hibernation the bland grey wishes it could last forever. Yet the grey is happy. Cities exist whose job is to hide the colors away forever. Concrete jungles dislike gaudy color. Tasteful is more of a thing. Winter, spring, summer or fall, color can’t invade the cities at all. Even with flower power cities can look bare. Dirt wins over flowers most of the time.
26 hours of consecutive sleep means that Casey would make a good sloth. Sloths sleep hard all the time. Life is easier in sleep. Sometimes people want to sleep all the time because life is hard. Getting yelled at for sleep seems so strange. Removing oneself from reality even for a short time can be a good thing. Alone time exists in dreams. Expectations, hopes, they mean nothing in the dream world. People are more themselves inside their own minds than they ever could be with each other. Humanity is the loneliest species on the planet, living together and feeling alone.
By the end Casey gives the reader a letter. There is no need to return it to sender as the letter doesn’t exist. It is just a photograph attached reminding the reader these thoughts are on pieces of paper somewhere, waiting to brighten a day.
DREAM COME TRU: Beach Sloth reviewed one of my works. My eyes have fallen out of their sockets. I am happy.