bby was always in her garden.
she sucked on flower petals, tasted pretty poison.
bby had her own words she made up, almost a whole language.
the ash fairies taught her things,
their skin was covered in glass and little feathers in matted golden hair.
they told bby not to eat the blood meat, it was rotten.
they told her she could live off the flowers and black eyed berries that stained her little fingers.
sometimes she would squeeze the juice and apply to lips & cheeks.
she felt like a rosy princess then.
but her favorite was digging her hands into the warm earth
she wanted to go deeper and deeper but felt afraid of the dirt creatures that might become angry at human-girl intruders.
bby became translucent and pale as fall turned to winter.
the fairies still spoke to her, but they shivered so hard in the wind, they sounded like broken chimes.
she felt like her eyelids were heavy diamonds, but her body felt so light!
her vision became blurry prisms.
they told her, do not be afraid little bby, we will guide you.
soon you will be with us.
the grown ups spoke amongst themselves of tubes and needles
but bby knew they could never understand the language
their voices sounded deep underwater
her bones became filled with light and oxygen and her eyes were too heavy to keep open.
the fairies whispered, voices like crystal smoke, come closer, bby
come be with us.
the soft snow fell and they put bby deep in the earth, it was so warm there.
she felt calm and safe.
when spring came, dripping with honey scents and little vines, bby sprouted from the soil.
fragile limbs out stretched, the fairies pulled on her small branches
and soon she was in full bloom.
in celebration of her becoming, they broke open berries and painted her cheeks and petals.
they crowned her with a wreath of spider silk, moss, and feathers.
bby was the princess of the fairies,
she shimmered like amythest glitter in the sun.
her roots could go deeper and deeper
there was nothing to be afraid of now.

Yr branches shiverrr hard
As I weave the metal thread through the petals
Crushing soft skin, releasing aromas like:
milky rose water
burning insect parts
lonely blankets
black swan opium
wet chammomile bandage
I'm lapping at the seepage
with rough kitten tongue
Drinking it up like honey nectr
Cause I'm so so thirsty
Yr eyes are little moons in orbit
smeared with glitter ash
they're making me spin
Nearly choking on vibration
I want more.

I feel yr lushious anemones
dripping wet neon prisms
sensual machine purrs
metallic flesh on flesh
pressed against hard surface
yr lips blossom like over ripe roses
I bite the petals they bruise
plush punctures
yr eyes are fire crystal stars
I see psychic passion
when they flutter
and when you cry
I make wishes on yr tears
but they evaporate so quick bby
cause yr temper is hot
hot hot
oh, my mechanical little kitten
tear me down again
oh, I see you
and
oh yes!
I feel you
thrashing and catching
beads of sweat
on yr silver snake tongue

went and walked to this peak in the hollywood hills tonight

an ocean of lights flickering

like mechanical fire

the traffic almost soothed like waves

Freidel was telling us these scary stories about gangs of people that lived in the hills we were at. We just laughed. When we left people started making noises from the dark all around us... we realized they had been there all along.
we screamed so loud and ran so fast....

I tuned and stopped, they kept going. I asked out loud if they wanted to be friends. I couldn't see anyone, but I could see a flame. One howled at me like a wolf. I laughed and ran to catch up.

The air tasted like dirt and flowers

We could both feel the electricity in those moments