Purple threaded evening. A torn goddess laying on the roof. Milk sky. Lavender hued moan against hot asphalt. The thickness of evening presses into your throat. Polaroids taped to the ceiling. Ivy pouring out of the cracks in the wall. I found my courage buried beneath molding books and forgot to lock the door behind me. The old house never forgets. Opened my mouth and a dandelion fell out. Reached behind my wisdom teeth and found sopping wet seeds. Pulled all of my teeth out just to say I could. He drowned himself in a pill bottle and the orange really brought out his demise. Lay me down on a bed of ground spices. There’s a song there, I know it. Amethyst geode eyes. Cracked open. No one saw it coming. October never loved you. The moon still doesn’t understand that.

calloused: a field journal