touchstone

saturday's jam

angela grossmann

inkspiration

body in a box

i sit in a box.
fluorescent lights
flickering.
monotonous voice
facilitates dreaming

ladders & dovetails
vocab as upsale

i'm a body
in a box
with other bodies

want to touch you
want you to touch me
want to see you
want you to see me
want to touch you
want you to touch me
want to see you
want you to see me

the fighter

running circles
you ran ragged
you ran crazy
fucked up speech

we all have potential
not special
cracks, like
no mystery to me

drips from
a precipice
drop feeding
hunger receding (bit by bit)

guess you name your price
doesn't make it right
guess you call the shots
now it's all you've got

you fought your thoughts
wound up, bound shut
over and over and over
over and over it's over

you're safe, in sound
hands pressed against knees
making and creating
this, will make ears bleed

words that match this time off the top of my

Appetent Arrangements

Basement Bondage

Casual Cold

Dilute Depth

Entertaining Everything

Fuck Ford

 Garnish Girls

Hetero Harassment

Intimate Ink
Juniper Juice

Kindred Knees

Leavening Lightly

Moon Music

Nectarine Necromancy

Orbitting Orgasm

Park Prosecco

Quantum Qualities

Reverent Runs

Summer Skewers

Taught Texts

Unfolding Underwhelmingly

Vulnerable Versus Vulnerable

Wooden Women

X:   X:

Yes Yawn

Zero Zelosus

glory, glory

HEAD - HEART - HOME

thin dreams
seeped through
to afternoon

glory, glory
brittle as bone
our wisdom and sex
be ripening

we live here
counting numbers
painting doors

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your eyes / are new / everytime

illiterate, but wicked sick
sense of humor

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these hills are alive
with cocaine and trying

all the people here are shadows
of the ones that live in my memory

addictions lazily became characteristics
lives of unconscious worship

never known let down
never owned a dream

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