People call me Juno when I drink orange juice.

I keep goatskin cloaks in my closet
right next to my ironic t-shirts.

None of those are fitting anymore,
since I’ve been dining on cafeteria food,

I’ve considered shopping in the maternity section
of Goodwill for some newer, baby-related puns

to wear when I drink my daily Vitamin C supplement,
but I can only find Wikipedia articles

about a Goddess Queen
and the cure for foodbabies.

-
April 14, 2014

Day 14 of NaPoWriMo

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Carnal Knowledge

Sometimes when my professor is lecturing,
I like to sniff my wrist brace.

It reminds me of sex,
mostly because of the sweat.

I wish I could pepper the windows
of the classrooms with post-it notes.

I’d write synonyms of intercourse
on them in cursive,

pretending they were vanilla erotica
while avoiding the word “fuck”

because I am in class,
where I have to create

my own erotic commentary
to educational videos

after all.

-
April 13,2014
Day 13 of NaPoWriMo

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Exorcism of the Incubus

I keep the ashes of the vampire
I staked on my seventeen birthday
in a Goodwill teacup
beside my bed.

On the nights
the crime shows victims
look a little too much like
my senior yearbook portrait,
I add a little water

while writing scientific journals
on the impossibility of phoenixes
recreating their genitals
from grains of ash and sand.

-
April 12, 2014
Day 12 of NaPoWriMo

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Deflowering

I wish I had a hand mirror
so I could look between my legs
and create an anatomically correct
drawing of my vulva
in the margins of poetry anthologies.

Metaphors compare
vaginas to lilies and roses,
beautiful and feminine,
but when I touch myself at night
I’ve never felt a stamen or stigma
And my pussy sure as hell doesn’t have any petals.

-
Day 11, 2014
Day 11 of NaPoWriMo

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Manic

She, we,
pretend
we had
a Jesus hallucination
and put pepper and plantains
on my arm
for the universe to taste,

but a piece dribbled
from my skin.

Our own crosses,
Our cataclysms.

Parents hold us
like hymns
and whisper

Our own corssses
Cataclysms

Parents hold us
like hymns in winter

The past might with
One madness
cover up
other poems

-
April 10, 2014
Day 10 of NaPoWriMo

*Note about today’s work. This poem was done for an assignment for my creative writing class. We had to bury some of creative works for a week, dig them up and then create a poem out of what was left. Enjoy!

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The Future in the Tense Present

I’m trying to wonder
if in twenty years
will the idea of
getting high on heroin
and joining Scientology
still sound so appealing

But right now
all I can think about is
how fucking badly I want
some damn gummy bears

because colleges never seem to
serve decently edible food,
so my gut starts to devour itself
midway through the day.

Half the time,
I’d rather go dumpster diving
and swim in garbage, looking for
pizza crusts and orange peels
to suck on.

If I had gummy bears,
I think I’d line them up
across my dresser, back to back
without blindfolds
so they could watch each other die,
and then bite each of their heads
off.

I’d stack their bodies
amongst my vitamins,
so I could surprise
myself in the morning.

I can’t help but wonder, though,
if heroin would keep me
from absorbing the vitamin’s nutrients
or the gummy bear’s brains.

Then again,
my stomach is already struggling
with digesting supplements,
and I’m reading a Buzzfeed article
on 20 reasons I shouldn’t have children,
so maybe my drunk friend’s idea
isn’t so bad afterall.

 

-

April 9, 2014

Day 9 of NaPoWriMo

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The Underwear Monster

I am the underwear monster.

I lay between wads of chewed gum
and abandoned latex condoms
between Wal-Mart’s shelves of prepackaged panties

So I can recite
the different types of BDSM rope
to middle age moms

while I help them decide
if they’d rather buy orange thongs,
blue hipsters, or white briefs

I prefer the boyshorts and nylon,

but they always pick
high-cuts and tell their daughters
to keep away from

Me.
-

April 8, 2014

Day 8 of NaPoWriMo

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