Online writing home of Rebecca Brown, friendly monster and future hermit. She also publishes under the pen name Julia Illich.

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maybe i like the way he looks at me
maybe i like the way it feels

maybe i’m thinking of my mother,
sitting on the kitchen steps
finally home again, apron spattered
grease, her skin. smoking - 
my mother who never smoked - 

always take their money
she says.


tan boy child
doesn’t read poetry
doesn’t get it
sits in the sun

will i let him read this.

wears a tie
wears a jacket
brings a coffee

when do we say love.

watch the way he moves
watch the way he moans

will we call it love.

i’m drinking too much coffee, 
the doctor says,
and that’s why i feel like
my skin isn’t my skin 
and my skin isn’t attached
to my body. 

it’s ok everything’s fine it’s ok.

i’m not sleeping enough,
the doctor says,
and that’s why i feel like
my stomach is crawling up my throat
and my stomach is in someone else’s

it’s ok everything’s fine it’s ok.

i’m watching the rain fall
and it looks like pieces of the sky
falling down. 

what if it is all the same sky.

what if i am eating the sky.

i want to be normal for you.
i want to be profoundly normal. 

sometimes i count my heartbeats.
sometimes i forget.

i wonder if other people notice
how much i’m fighting to breathe.

i wonder if other people forget.

my body doesn’t feel like my body anymore.
i wonder if i forget.

she said you give me really mixed signals
and i should have said:
here is my heart. raw. still beating.
devour me. 

but i stayed quiet.

we were in the car.
on the highway.
she was taking me home.

i offered to give her my bleeding parts
months later.

she didn’t want them.

maybe i was too late.

i can almost breathe now so things are a lot better

  • #hi
  • he says that doing what you love is bullshit
    and i don’t tell him some days the only reason i get out of bed
    is because going to work is the only thing i care about

    i don’t know what love is

    ever since i met him i feel like my blood congealed
    in one giant mass and now it’s trying to jump
    out of my skin

    i want to know how my voice sounds in his ears

    i still cry when i call my mom 

    there isn’t a point to this really

    could i fall in love in a city without stars?

    even if we are the two most insignificant
    specks of dust in the entire universe

    it’s still your dust that i dream about

    and that night on your roof and the rain

    some days i feel like the floor might collapse
    beneath me

    the room isn’t spinning anymore 
    but the walls might be caving in.

    i never felt an earthquake,
    but i knew the minute i saw you

    i wanted you.

    i think the magnetic fields are misaligned
    trying to throw us back together

    baby we’re dust
    baby we’re nothing
    baby i need you
    baby i’m coming undone

    meet me on the roof
    meet me on the street

    let’s realign the universe
    baby let’s be

    i want to be overwhelmed by the universe with you

    we could be something small 
    and insignificant
    in the face of the vast 
    and unchanging cosmos

    baby, let’s be specks of dust together

    my uncle says we should admire the people who jumped out of the burning building