@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

YOU LOOK LIKE BRUCE WILLIS

LYING NAKED IN THE SAND

by

@vickitingle

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

seems so delicious.

you are shaking your fur like a wet dog in front of me.

i wonder if you have ever been called

a lover’s name like “baby” or “sugar”

because you seem like if somebody called you those names,

you might explode in a frenzy of confusion

and shower your blood and guts down onto them

like a red, lumpy fountain.

seems delicious.

i want you to shake your fur like a wet dog in front of me some more.

i want to call you a lover’s name

but not “baby” or “sugar”.

although,

i think maybe on some level i do want you to explode

in a mysterious frenzy,

because i want to be covered in your red lumpy fountain rain.

then i will make an umbrella from my heart,

so that next time somebody explodes and it’s not you,

i will stay dry.

i will feast on your blood and guts for years.

seems so delicious.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

“michael”

california sun feels better on your body than almost anything.

i want to eat crab with you

and for you to lock me out of the house

and film me having a breakdown

when i can’t get back in.

i want to never wear sunscreen

and film you

lying naked on the sand.

you look like bruce willis.

i am lucille to your george bluth.

or maybe

the other way around.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

is it possible to cry so much that you start crying blood (and the blood drips down your face

and out of your glands and out of your nipples and you become so drenched in blood that

you just become ‘a blood’ and morph in and out of shape and seep into things and confuse

and upset people and your blood starts crying real tears and pleads with people to try and

understand that you are not a monster you are just sad).

is it possible to be so bad at life that you collapse into a puddle of “mess” (and people step

in the mess and walk around with it on their shoes and stamp it into clean carpets and the

carpets reject the mess so all around the city you live in there are seemingly waterproof

carpets with puddles of mess and friends always ask friends ‘what the heck is that mess on

your carpet’ and friends of friends just sort of sigh and say ‘ugh idk just ignore it’).

is it possible to want something so much that your arms extend unnaturally far beyond your

body to try to reach it (and your arms touch peoples’ butts by mistake and those people get

mad and chop off your hands and parade them around like trophies saying ‘look at what i

did to this gross butt-toucher’ and your hands wither and die and think ‘i just wanted one

thing in life and now i will never have it’).

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

you just do your own thing, i will go cook this two-person paella for one.

do you remember

how i used to cry in my sleep

and wake us up in coughing fits.

i know now that something was trying to get out of me

and into you.

i was so into you.

i just wanted to

cook you a paella

and you just wanted

to do your own thing.

does any of this even make sense.

do you still drink vermouth

and store it on the bookcase.

please store me on your bookcase

so i can sit amongst your things

and blend into them seamlessly.

i want to ask you questions

without answers

because

i am like a question mark when i am with you.

i am like a question mark without you.

i made paella for two.

i will eat it alone

and eat the leftovers tomorrow.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

I want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead I

want to be dead I want to be dead I want to be dead.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

your pajamas are folded up under the pillow on your side of the bed.

i hope that i can keep them there for a while.

only until i am okay again

if i am ever okay again.

they smell like you.

and your body.

~

can we just cuddle one last time

and then die

before the time is up.

~

when i think about you meeting other girls,

i imagine them smelling me on you

and recoiling in fear

and thinking,

“it’s a bad idea

to fuck with vicki’s shit”.

~

my wall clock keeps me awake at night.

i find myself deeply emotionally involved in its face.

the hands on its face

prompt me to touch my own face

and i sometimes cry at the sensation

of hands on my face.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

i

please write me a deeply personal letter

no wait, don’t - save some effort -

dm me instead.

ii

please call me next time you are drunk

and tell me that you hate me

and you can do better.

i just need to know that i didn’t turn you gay

or drive you

to suicide.

i hope you read this.

iii

please think of me next time you are sick.

wish me there

to stroke your back

and bring you noodles.

i want you to infect me

with whatever gross thing you have.

iv

please lie directly and consistently to my face

about who you are seeing

and what you are doing.

i won’t ask anyway

but if i do, just lie.

sorry for being

so bad at everything.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

i am done with sober sex

since i realised:

the idea of being pleasured by another human

(sober)

seems demeaning to me.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

bros resembling bros

your hands are as large as my face and only half as thin as your lips. your actions seem as large as your head and repetitive and knowable.

until i am old enough to know that i used to be young, will you just repeat yourself. (a message to all bros) there is a book in your bedroom but it is not a book of poems. does it really matter if bros resemble bros. until our bodily fluids are drained will we keep exchanging them back and forth and then forgetting we ever did that? how do you know like, how do you really ‘know’ if you have made a mistake with a bro when all bros just resemble other bros.

even if all bros just resemble other bros i will keep exchanging (something) with them until there is nothing left to exchange.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

damn.

sometimes, really wish i was a lesbian

so hating men wouldn’t cause me so much inner

conflict

when i want to bang them.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

i sometimes like to imagine

what it would be like

to have a stupid number of limbs,

like maybe ‘twenty-three’ limbs,

and how uncomfortable it would be.

i would probably seem very pathetic

and flail around a lot

and cry a lot

re: my ridiculous limb-count.

could i even manoeuvre my iphone like that.

how do you even live with that many limbs.

i know this isn’t real

i close my eyes and whisper

‘this isn’t real, i technically only have four limbs’

but i feel panicked anyway.

just a general sense of panic

re: everything

incl. a high limb-count.

@vickitingle vickitinglr.tumblr.com

how old do you have to be

before you can be disappointed in who you have become.

how young do you have to be

to know that you want to be more.

how naïve do you have to be

to fall in love with someone.

how in love do you have to be

to know you will never feel any differently.

how bad do you have to feel

to know that you want to be dead.

he left me a voicemail at 2pm and said

‘i can see you through your window

(you are tentatively preparing pitta bread and red pepper to eat with

hummus)

enjoy.’

who even am i. eff this existence yall.