@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.